


Der Widerstand

by XOs



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 18th Century, Battle, Destined, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Freedom Fighters, Hero of Prophecy, Heroine's Journey, Imperial Russia, Monarchy, Prophecy, Romance, War, Wars, battles, kings - Freeform, semi-fantasy, the chosen one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOs/pseuds/XOs
Summary: The peaceful town of Königsberg is settling into its daily routine when, out of the blue, the Imperial Guards arrive to arrest Julchen Beilschmidt for potential treason to the King of all Provinces. Running for her life, she finds herself uprooted from the home and the people she loved. Her predicament finds herself allied to two strangers, Francis Bonnefoy and Antonio Carriedo, who bring her into the world of Ordinem, an underground resistance force working against the King and his men. However, there is more than meets the eye to Ordinem and the King, and Julchen's own blissful ignorance towards her true importance sends her life spiralling into grave danger.





	1. The Girl With the Snow White Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I like a little bit of Female Prussia. In fact, I really wish I looked like her, because she's actually so cool and her design is incredible. She's basically my cosplay goals. Anyway, since she's such a great character, I had to include her in one of my Fics and, whilst I'm on a writing spree, I really can't let this idea go!
> 
> I've mostly stuck with canon and fanon names, but just in case, I'm listing the names of characters in the End Notes. I'll also put additional notes at the end, just for reference.

* * *

**Long ago, the world in which we live was a very different place.** Instead of the great and powerful High Province of Slavia, the leading power was a city of the name Teutonia. This was a kingdom of such strength that all fell beneath its holy hegemony. It is best known as the Age of the Teutonic Order, where a small power rose to the top of the world. The old Latin Empire that had spread across the lands had slowly begun to crumble, leaving the world in a muddle disarray, to the point where all Provinces collapsed into darkness. It was from these murky depths that the Teutonic Knights appeared, a light to lead the people to a new age.

It is difficult to say from where these great Teutonic Knights first originated from, but it is common across most Provinces to assume they travelled from across the great ocean expanse. Such is not the case in the Province of Germania. It is a myth to our people that the Teutonic Order was first founded within the depths of a man of the name "Fritz Vater". This man, alongside his disciples, began to delve into the pure beliefs of the Teutonic Order, with the goal to create a new Province and find a new system to govern the world. This was to bring the people out of the darkness that had encased them for so long. Father Fritz raised an army, later known as the Teutonic Knights, who traversed across Germania. Along the way, the Teutonic Order was spread to the ears of the people, who rejoiced at having found a new community and identity.

The Emperor of the slowly dissolving, yet still present, Latin Empire, didn't like this new belief arising from the dust and did his very best to crush the Teutonic Order as it formed. But he failed. Father Fritz led his Teutonic Knights from Province to Province, binding the people with the common goal to be led by a new and much greater Province. It became a thing of divine. The legendary citadel was found in the centre of the world and was named Teutonia. The Latin Emperor attempted a final attack on the great city, but his power failed against the combined mighty strength of the Teutonic Order and the people's support. Father Fritze established Teutonia in its sacred position, but shortly died afterwards...

A man rose in his place, a pale featured creature with eyes a bright scarlet. There is very little known about him, but he is called the Hero of Teutonia. After Father Fritz's death, the world fell into confusion. People doubted the strength of the Teutonic Order without Father Fritz, which allowed a dark power to rise against the forces of good. Evil beings spread out across the Provinces, their demonic hatred eating away at the peace that the Teutonic Order had spent so many years to establish. When all seemed lost, this Hero of Teutonia, his awe-inspiring blade shining in the sun's light, brought down the monsters of darkness and saved the people of all provinces. Being just an ordinary man from Teutonia, the people's respect rose tenfold and the Provinces once more pledged their allegiance to Teutonia. These were the prosperous days, when the Provinces grew in wealth and culture bloomed amongst the people. Peace had been restored once more and, instead of fear, faith was placed into the power of the Teutonia and the Teutonic Order. The Hero was never heard of again, but he had performed the role his destiny had required him to.

But one fateful day, many years after the Hero's disappearance, a new power arose. This was the High Province of Slavia, a new force which had not previously existed. These new people came from the treacherous cold lands and were stronger than the ordinary man. With an iron fist and a bloodthirsty rage, they attacked the world's centre, Teutonia, and managed to break the citadel's holy walls. Great bloodshed ran down the streets and the Teutonic Order was brutally smashed into tiny pieces. The people were afraid and the Provinces bowed beneath the power of the Slavs, fearful for their lives. Teutonia was razed to the ground and its ruins have long since been lost.

However, it has been prophesised that the Hero of Legend would return to save Teutonia. This hero will raise his sword against the Slavic dictatorship and lead his new people to the site where Teutonia fell. He will be the mirror image of the Hero of Teutonia, pale and red eyed, and will restore peace to the peoples of all Provinces from the forces of darkness.

* * *

When he was six years old, Lud had been told this story. His young mind had instantly turned to the obvious, for which he stated: "Julchen is the Teutonic Hero?"

I was only eight years old and had begun to assert my authority as the older sibling more often. In response, I had replied: "The Teutonic Hero is a  _man_ ,  _dummkopf_."

Mütter had gotten really angry, pulled my ear and sent me to my room crying, telling me to never call my brother that again. Regardless, Lud always held me in some kind of higher respect, although in no way did he still believe I was the next Teutonic Hero. He always looked up to me, the older sibling, despite having far outgrown me in height and strength. Gone were the days when he was almost half my height and I could wrestle him to the ground whilst he screamed and threw a tantrum about his loss. As grownups, we now worked on the potato farm of the Königsberg, which was a far humbler purpose in life than leading a grandiose army against the High Province of Slavia. Besides, you would have to be mad to do that, whether you were the Hero of Prophecy or not. The High Province of Slavia guided the other Provinces into organised efficiency. It was the way the world was laid out. What was the point of changing that?

Like every day of the year, I was picking potatoes alongside Lud on the farm. It was March. In the Province of Germania, that meant mild weather with a significant potential for rain. Luckily, the weather today was dry, if not chilly against the plain, woollen clothes I wore. I hated wearing dresses; the wind always found a way up the skirts and then my backside was freezing. If that wasn't the case, then it was raining and the fabric stuck to my legs like an itchy layer of skin. It would be much easier to wear the same clothes as Lud. The trousers he wore day in, day out were practical and sturdy against all kinds of weather. When it was summer, he wore shorts. I couldn't wear shorts. Mütter called it "indecent", so instead I was forced to sweat through the tragic dress, no matter how hot it was. Whatever the weather, my clothes weren't accustomed to working long and hard hours in the fields, sweating and plucking potatoes.

My brother approached, hauling two sacks of potatoes over his shoulders. He had been such a young, scrawny boy back in the day, with especially thin little wrists and scraggly, birdlike legs. Vater had worried he wouldn't grow up to be strong like the other boys his age, because Lud had always been the smallest. Never had any of us expected him to shoot up the way he did, until he became the strongest and sturdiest boy in the village. He was like an ox, steady in his work without a single complaint, yet one of the greatest in strength and least deserving of the modesty he wore.

"Ready to go?" he asked and I nodded.

We lived in Königsberg, a small village in the Province of Germania. It was tucked away in the centre, concealed by thick, spruce forests and out of the way of society. The plains by the forests had been cultivated for agriculture and many of the potatoes were imported to Germania's leading city, Berlin. Other than that, there was very little significance to Königsberg. It was humble compared to all other villages and towns and could never compare to a great city. It was scenic, though. I had never been to Berlin before, but Vater and Opa had and neither had favourable words on the conditions. They had described dirty streets with the impoverished wandering around in search of food. That had surprised me. Only villages were supposed to be in poverty. There were days when even  _we_ had to go through shortages, particularly through the winter. Vater had also complained about the pickpockets. The streets apparently "had more of them than they did rats", and Vater had been quick to add that the rats had teemed everywhere. Both had been glad to return to the peaceful countryside of Königsberg and I'd been given no incentive whatsoever to travel to the city of Berlin. The local, sandy footpaths and the consistently familiar faces were all that I needed anyway.

On the way to our house, we were always provided a colourful scene of friendly villagers. There was the baker, his red cheeked face beaming as he called out for people to buy his bread and his wife had put her latest apple pie on the windowsill to cool down. The butcher was hauling barrels of salted meat onto a wagon that would head off to Berlin, his apron stained with faded blood and leather gloves adorning his hands as he waved. The old gypsy attempted to entice us over to buy her crystals and healing beads, a ploy that never worked since Lud was adamant magic didn't, and couldn't  _ever_ , exist. The milkmaids giggled as we passed, bright blue eyes tracing over Lud, who paid them no attention whatsoever, mainly because he would never notice they all had crushes on him- oblivious to love, basically. As we approached our house, one that looked the same as all others with its thatched roof and wooden beams, Lud and I hesitated to see a strange carriage standing outside of our home. It looked immaculate, a polished masterpiece of wood and gold, with four white stallions attached to the front with reigns. A number of men in chainmail were posted, swords at their belts and serious expressions on their faces. They wore a strange insignia that I didn't know, although Ludwig murmured something about the Germanic governor. He had always been more attentive in class. When they caught sight of us, the guards instantly stood to attention. That was only done for important people. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I couldn't see anyone of importance behind us.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Lud, who shrugged as we approached.

Suddenly, Mütter appeared in the doorway. She wore a harassed expression in her blue eyes and her blonde hair streamed as she rushed towards me. She stood a good two inches shorter, but still commanded fierce respect. Mütter was one of  _those_ women. She clasped my face in her hands, inspecting every inch of my skin.

"What are you-" I complained, before she licked her thumb and rubbed at my cheek.

"You need to look presentable," she hissed and pulled my hair from its tie, letting white strands cascade down to my waist. "This looks so messy."

"Stop it," I tried to bat her hands away, but it was difficult to do with a sack of potatoes in my arms.

Mütter glanced towards the guards, before hauling the sack from my hands and loading it on to Lud. My brother took it without argument, as Mütter grabbed my wrist and hauled me inside.

"What's going on?" I scowled, as she brought me into the kitchen, where Vater and Opa were hovering near the table.

"Lord Edelstein," Mütter bowed and grasped the back of my head, bringing me down with her.

I straightened up as soon as I could to see a young man seated at the table. He had a shock of dark hair, an unusual sight in the Province of Germania. To accompany that, his eyes were a rich indigo in colour. His skin remained porcelain and unscathed and he was dressed in such fine fabrics. A doublet sat comfortable on his shoulders, purple in colour and seemingly laced with gold stitching. The belt at his waist was drawn in tight, accentuating his lean, slender figure. He looked like he would fit nicely on a horse. This was accompanied by the dark, tailored breeche and shin high leather boots. Not a scratch could be seen upon them. His appearance was something else, to be sure. I had never seen someone who looked so  _clean_ before.

"Incredible," he remarked, staring at me, although his face remained impassive. "She truly does look like the hero from those old legends."

I shot a questioning stare at Mütter. She stared straight ahead, purposefully ignoring me. Behind the young man's shoulder, Vater sent me a warning look. Opa refused to let his gaze travel in my direction. I could hear Lud had followed us in, but I didn't dare look over my shoulder to see his reaction. Mütter would probably pull my ear if I did.

"Very good," the young man serenely turned towards my father. "I shall marry her."

Lud audibly snorted behind me and I held a cough in. Eyes turned towards the pair of us.

" _Marry_ me?" I repeated.

" _Julchen_ ," Mütter hissed.

"Indeed," the young man turned towards me, unfazed by my reaction. "I had heard an albino child was living in Königsberg. You people are good luck. I thought it to be a rumour at first, but no."

I stood on the spot, frozen. I was trying to look at Opa, but he kept his arms folded and his eyes on the ground. Not a single word was uttered from him. I had thought he would've defended me more. Opa always took my side. Why was he suddenly abandoning me to... I let my gaze drift towards the young man with the dark hair. Mütter had called him 'Lord Edelstein'. That meant nothing to me. I should've listened in class more.

"I shall return next week to take you to Berlin," he crossed the room and took my hand, lightly touching his lips to my skin. "It was a pleasure to be acquainted to you..." He paused to glance around the cramped kitchen in disdain, before returning his gaze to me. "... _Miss_ Beilschmidt."

He released my hand and left the room. Outside, the chink of armour could be heard as the guards assembled to take Lord Prissy away. How dare he look at our home as if it were nothing? It may not have been impressive, but it could've been far worse. The door softly closed and the horses' hooves stamped as they trotted away down cobbled roads. I turned towards my family. They all worse still expressions.

"What was  _that_?" I broke the silence.

" _That_ was the young Lord Edelstein," Vater folded him arms and glowered at me. "I'm surprised he still wants to marry you after the display you put on there."

"You can't do this to me," I gawked.

"Why not?" Mütter looked quizzical. "It's about time you got married. You're  _twenty-one_ now. Can't be having you get older."

"I don't even know him," I countered.

"He's wealthy and owns an impressive title," Vater pointed out. "You don't  _need_ to get to know him. You won't have to pick another potato in your life."

"But he lives in  _Berlin_ ," I glanced to Mütter.

"You'll be a  _lady_ ," she remarked, amazed.

"This isn't  _fair_ ," I walked up to the table and slammed my hands on its smooth, unforgiving surface, looking my grandfather in his ice blue eyes. "Opa,  _say something_. You can't just let them sell me off like a... like a  _potato_."

The corners of his mouth turned up briefly, but he heaved out a long sigh and turned those cold blue eyes to me. He was an old man, his long blonde hair streaked with silver that seemed to increase every day. Despite this, he still stood strong and proud. There was a sadness in his expression today, though, that I wasn't sure how to explain.

"Why are you  _complaining_?" Mütter joined my side, irritated. "This is an opportunity. You'll have a wonderful life with Lord Edelstein, yet you seem inclined to turn it away. What is  _wrong_ with you, Julchen?"

I pursed my lips and looked at her. "I don't want to marry that man."

"You'll finally give us grandchildren," Mütter argued, before glancing at Opa. "And  _great_ -grandchildren."

"That's..." I struggled to find the words to say past my anger. "I don't... This isn't  _fair_. Why don't  _I_ have a say in this?"

"Clearly because you'd make the wrong decision," Mütter huffed. "And look what you're doing; making the wrong decision! Honestly, Julchen, I thought you hated picking potatoes? You're always complaining about that, so I'd have thought this was the escape you've always wanted."

"He didn't like our lifestyle," I smirked. "How can a decent man criticise the living standards of his extended family?"

" _I_ would criticise our living standards and  _I_ live here," Vater said. "You'll be marrying him, Julchen. There's no arguing about it, understood? I've made my decision and I've already agreed with Lord Edelstein that you're to marry him."

"I  _refuse_ ," I snapped, turning on my heel. Lud hastily side-stepped out of my path.

"Where are you going?" Vater demanded.

I ignored him and stormed away from the house.

"Julchen!" Vater bellowed, but I was already dashing outside into the morning sun.

Stomping down the road, heads turned to me in wonder. One woman, the town crier's wife, even had the gall to ask what such an important man was doing at our house, but I told her it was none of her business. Puffing out my cheeks, I headed up the hill towards the dark forests, a place where nobody else went. I often went here. The birdsong was peaceful and undisturbed and it was the best place to think. Pushing the wild locks of white hair from my face, I threw myself at the base of a thick trunk and drew my knees close up to my body. How had Vater and Mütter come to the conclusion that I would be fine with marrying a stranger, a random Lord from Berlin? I had always been a free spirit. Tying myself down with a man had never appealed to me and I didn't even  _want_ to think about  _children_ in my current mood. And Opa... he had said  _nothing_. I felt betrayed by a man I had placed so much faith into throughout my entire life. I wanted to scream, cry and tear out my hair, but I also needed to be quiet, so that nobody could find me. Sulking would have to do.

A beautiful melody filled the air, a high pitched tweeting. Raising my head, I saw a small yellow bird perched in the branches of the trees. Its black eyes rolled around as it searched for safety and food, until those same eyes landed on me, seated there. I half expected it to fly away, to disappear from view forever in its terror at seeing such a strange and terrifying creature. Instead, it returned my gaze and flew down, landing near my feet. I fell still, watching the delicate creature hop around, across twigs and mud, never coming near enough to touch, but not fleeing either. These were the things I would miss if I were to go to Berlin. The natural world, the smell of fresh pines, the verdant colours that surrounded me. Lord Prissy would never be able to provide such a miracle to me. He probably wouldn't even let me leave the house. I suspected that, if I were to marry him, I would have a screeching baby rolling around in my arms by the end of the year.

A branch crunched nearby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'll leave it there! I hope I provided a sufficient enough taste of Julchen's world in the first chapter. I also hope others like her character just as much as I do!  
> \----------  
> Ludwig Beilschmidt, "Lud": Germany  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Torwald Beilschmidt, "Opa": Germania  
> Roderich Edelstein: Austria  
> \----------  
> 01) "dummkopf" is essentially the German word for "idiot". It literally translates as "dumb head".
> 
> 02) I just want to say, I love Berlin. I know it doesn't sound like I do, but I really do! I'm just basing it on similar premises to 19th Century London, which was an absolute pit of filth, to be honest.
> 
> 03) I guess I have a headcanon of some kind that Female Prussia is surprisingly short, which really contrasts with her big ego! I see her around 5'1/5'2 (155-158cm).
> 
> 04) I know Germania is technically the father of Germany and Prussia, but I feel he suits the wise grandfather role instead, to be honest? Eh, I usually make him a grandfather in Human AUs, just because he is supposed to be a lot older.


	2. The End of the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, again! I'm still on my massive posting spree, and I have a lot planned for this Fic! Posting so soon probably makes the cliff hanger of last chapter a little less effective, but oh well! I like to think people will enjoy reading on anyway!
> 
> Once again, I post my important notes and comments in the End Notes, so to see character notes and authorial details, those will all be at the end of the chapter as the link provides.

* * *

**Rapidly, I glanced upwards towards the sound and saw Opa standing in the clearing.** He still wore the sad expression in his eyes from before, his mouth stretched into a thin line. He clearly wasn't impressed with my behaviour, but I was disappointed in him and it was weighing heavily on my chest.

"Julchen..." he said and I pointedly turned my head away.

This was possibly the first time ever that I didn't want to confide in Opa. I brought all of my troubles to him. This time, though... I felt a raw pain in my heart just thinking about it. Why hadn't he spoken out against Vater? Surely a son would listen to his old father for his daughter's sake? Apparently not, as Opa had come to visit me. What would he tell me? That this was my role as a woman? That the time had come to set my freedom aside? I didn't want to do or hear that. I was content to continue breezing along as always, to view the world from the eyes of someone with no familial responsibilities.

Opa sat beside and lowered his eyes to the small, yellow bird hovering near my feet. This tiny creature was resilient, standing firm despite the presence of another lumbering creature. I admire him. There were very few birds brave enough to remain in human sight for very long. Brave, or extremely foolish.

"He seems to like you," Opa continued. I refused to answer. "You're angry."

"Of course, I am," I huffed, before blowing air out of my nostrils. I hated being provoked.

"The young Lord Edelstein is a perfectly decent young man," Opa said. "I can't-"

"How do you  _know_?" I asked bitterly, watching the bird peck at the muddied ground.

"I've met his father," Opa replied, ice blue eyes calmly focused on the tiny winged beast. "I've met the boy himself. I  _could_ see the pair of you being happy with one another and, if not, you could tolerate one another and be content sharing the duties of a family."

I kept my mouth firmly closed, wishing I could take flight and leave, just like a bird.

"I had children when I was twenty-three," Opa continued. "Your mother was nineteen- Ludwig's age. I understand you have loved your life as a child, but there comes a time for all of us when we need to move on. Having a family of your own is important and intimidating, but I know you'll be a good mother."

"I don't  _want_ to be a mother," I murmured, drawing in the dirt with a finger.

"I didn't want to be a parent, either," Opa watched the bird serenly. "I'm glad I did now, otherwise who else would look after me in the cold? For me, marriage and family was a knot to tie me down. I'd imagine you feel exactly the same way. But the strangest of things happened. The moment your father was born, I felt an unconditional love that I knew would never go away. I didn't marry for love, but I found love within my family as time progressed, and I know you can do the same."

"I'll have to leave home," I sulked.

"A time for that comes for  _everyone_ ," he reassured me. "Your own home is one of the greatest things that can happen to you. Besides, you'll live in Berlin. Your 'home' will be a grand castle and you'll have a few women or so to dress you and bathe you every day.  _Every day_ , Julchen- a bath!"

"But you  _hate_ Berlin," I replied coolly. "Which means I won't like it either, right, Opa?"

He didn't answer.

"Isn't that right, Opa?" I raised my head to finally look at him and saw the pain in his expression.

"I don't want you to leave her, but you must," he told me. "I want you to make the family proud and to bring us into a great and noble branch. I want great grandchildren who wear well-made clothes, who don't know what it's like to go without food for a day, who haven't ever had to chop off a goose's head for Christmas dinner. I want great grandchildren who have the freedom to get on a horse and travel to the next city without encountering monetary or practical issues. I want them to be able to make a difference in this world by entering the Provincial Government of Germania and, if Edelstein raises them correctly, to one day stand in the Court of the High Province of Slavia and change the lives of their cousins and family living here. And I want you to be happy."

"But I  _won't_ be happy there," I huffed adamantly.

"You will be, though," Opa smiled. "You can wear what you like. No more patchy woollen dresses. You can eat what you like. Yes, you may have to sit up straight and use cutlery, but you'll adjust to that and any good amount of food can replace the bad feelings there. You can do what you like. If you want to have a walk around the city, you can do that without having to think about what chores are required of you. Yes, you'll have children and you'll have to raise them to some degree, but you'll have a nurse for them and you don't need to be around as much once they're two. Königsberg has always held you back, Julchen, but Berlin is the opportunity for you to finally explore the world."

"But-"

"Julchen, it's a beautiful life and I know you can be happy," he swallowed.

"Opa..."

"If this is about the sicknesses I get during winter time, you don't have to worry about an old man like me," he kept pondering aloud, staring up at the sky through the trees. "I can take care of myself and your father and mother have done an excellent job so far. Besides, I  _am_ old. If it's nearing my time, then so be it."

"That's..." I felt my words dying on my throat. Why wasn't  _Opa_ listening to me?

"What is it?" he asked.

"I want to marry for love," I admitted, drawing my knees closer.

The disturbance alerted the small yellow bird, who turned alarmed black eyes on me. A dreadful silence filled in the space between us. I wanted him to reply instantly, to justify my words, but instead, he seemed at a loss. His blue eyes searched the ground for answers.

"You... don't marry who you love," Opa finally answered, but these weren't the words I wanted to hear. "You love who you marry. It was the same for me, it was the same for your father. I don't know many people who have  _truly_ married for love."

 _You don't marry who you love. You love who you marry_. 

Without an answer, I rose from the spot. The bird took fright and launched into the sky, small wings flapping until its yellow body was nowhere in sight.

"Julchen?" Opa looked confused. "Where are-"

"Back to work," I answered coldly. "Lud will be waiting for me."

"What about the marriage?" he asked.

I ignored  _that_ question. I didn't want to think about it. Dragging my feet along, I carried on down the pathway. Opa sighed, but he knew that our conversation had ended. He followed without another word. The sky had turned a tumultuous grey, clouds roiling with the threat of rain and thunder. We both travelled out of the safety of the forest, just as an angry sound, an earsplitting shriek of anguish, ripped through the heavy air. It was a bird of some kind, a noise that made us both jerk our heads upwards. There it was, a black form in the sky, hovering along the winds, its wings spread out in the largest wingspan I had seen. It was a creature far larger than a golden eagle and the next shrill cry it released sounded eerily like a war cry.

"The Germania Eagle..." Opa murmured, before gazing towards Königsberg with narrowed eyes.

If there was significance in this strange, dark bird of prey, it was lost on me. Its anguished yells seemed to carry across the sky, thundering about Königsberg. I continued down the path, ignoring the cold breeze that had begun to whip up out of nowhere. I had to keep brushing hair out of my face and Opa tried to keep up, falling a few paces behind me. I could see Königsberg in the distance, the quaint little village I loved to call my home. Oddly, I could see a lot of movement on the streets, bright flashes of silver moving along. There weren't  _this_ many residents in Königsberg and none of them owned silver, so to suddenly see so many people was unusual. As we neared, I could see the silver was armour. My blood boiled. Had Lord Prissy returned to make a further mockery of our family? In my rage, I stormed forwards.

"Julchen, wait!" Opa's words were lost to the howling winds as I powered my way to Königsberg to give Lord Prissy a piece of my mind.

A figure appeared to greet me, a woman of the family name. Müller. She rushed towards me, clasping her hands in hers. "Julchen, you ought to go to the fields for more picking."

"What are you doing?" I complained as she tried to turn me back. "The fields are the other way."

"The  _other_ fields," she pointed to the stretching lands around the village, the ones my family were rarely on duty for. "There's a storm coming and we need to gather as much food supplies as possible."

"Don't be ridiculous," I shrugged her hands away and strode past. "It's a bit of wind."

"At least take this," Herr Müller added helplessly, draping her shawl across my head. "To avoid catching a cold."

I snorted in derision but tied it over my head and shoulders to satisfy her. Shooting a glance over my shoulder, I could see a look of concern written across her features, her now loose blonde hair flowing in the wind. Opa, who was red faced and out of breath from trying to keep up with me, had stopped to talk to her, just as anxious. I didn't have time for either of them. I was irate and wanted to tell Lord Superior to  _never_ come back. In my books, the marriage was off.

There were some guards standing to the side of the street. I was near to scorning them until I noticed the emblems on their uniforms. The pattern, the colours; these were official royal soldiers from the High Province of Slavia. I hesitated just a few steps to take in the sight. Never did such guards of high calibre come down this area. Königsberg wasn't an important place in the slightest. I had never seen a Slavic soldier and had never expected to, either. One caught me staring, whistled and I looked away. The only reason such people would be here was because of a crisis of some kind, or an important event. The woman from earlier had been alarmed. Herr Müller had tried to stall me from going home. What if...

What if the royal soldiers were here because of an incident relating to my family?

My feet suddenly carried me further at a fast pace, until I was running through the streets, dodging past people. Another howling gust sailed along the streets, pushing on my back and the rain suddenly poured from the clouds, finally breaking beyond its barriers. The April showers had seemingly come early. Ashen faces watched me and Slavic soldiers seemed to be posted at every point in the village. I had long lost Opa at this point. My feet splashed on wet, muddy roads. Eyes followed me the entire time, solemn faces accompanying them, all to the point where I reached my home, a house that looked like all others.

The door was left wide open and the vicinity seemed to be surrounded by the royal guards. My heart flipped in my chest. Dashing forwards, I pushed past a few of the guards, ignoring their surprised protests. Mütter usually told me to wipe my feet on the mat. Today, I especially wasn't interested in such trivialities. I stomped through the house, tossing the wet shawl away from my head as I called out to my family. Mud and water were dragged through the hallway, to the kitchen were I expected them to be. And my family were indeed there.

The three of them sat at the table, faces pale and eyes wide with fear as they looked towards me. A young man stood at the table, slowly turning to the doorway upon hearing me and stared me down with malicious green eyes. His brown hair was neatly tied back into a low ponytail and he wore the same coloured emblem of the Slavic shoulders. The cape that swirled around his shoulders was a deep crimson. There was a sword at his belt and he looked incredibly serious, if not angry. Another young man with a similar uniform stood in the corner of the the room, arms folded. He was very effeminate- I had almost mistaken him for a woman- with his slender figure, short stature and girlish appearance. His blonde hair was kept out, falling to his chin rather than tied or pinned back. He also carried a sword, though, so it was best not to underestimate him. Both of these men were to be feared, but... why were they  _here_?

"Ah... ' _missing_ ', you said...?" the young man with the brown hair turned a sly gaze towards Vater and a distasteful frown appeared on his face. "She doesn't appear to be very missing to me."

"What's going-"

"Of all the times you had to pick to return!" Mütter suddenly burst out, but shrank back under the young man's gaze. I had never seen her so afraid before.

"Lying to the royal guard could be considered treason, particularly as we are working directly under the King's orders," the young man told Mütter coldly. "However. as it happens, we're currently busy and don't have time to slaughter an entire family."

There was a sudden sting on my cheek and a collective gasp rang out across my family. I didn't dare more, but allowed my eyes to travel to the edge of the sword that hovered so close to my face. It was tinged with a little crimson on the tip.

"Julchen Maria Beilschmidt, you are under arrest," the young man stared straight into my eyes and I had a sudden frightful belief that I was going to die.

"Wait, what am I being arrested for?" I protested, as two soldiers came up from behind and grabbed my arms. "I haven't done anything!"

"It's the King's orders," the young man replied, delicately sheathing his sword once more.

"That means  _nothing_!" I yelled as they pulled at me. I resisted.

"The King's word should be enough in itself," he said coolly.

"I don't care what-"

A sword pummelled through the chest of one of the guards. For the first time, the young man lost his composure. He started, fumbling at his sword hilt as the other guard turned, only to have the next thrust of a blade through his throat. He fell to the ground, clawing at his wound as I turned to see who had saved my life. Although he was old, Opa had never looked so powerful in my eyes. Determination emanated from every pore in his body. Blood had spattered on me, Opa and the walls of the house. The two guards drew their swords. The brunette focused on Opa and I whilst his blonde companion aimed his weapon towards Lud and Vater to prevent them aiding.

"Julchen,  _run_!" Opa yelled, voice ringing in my ears.

I stared at him, mouth dry and heart pounding.

"Leave this place!" he bellowed like a bull, standing infallible.

My grandfather clasped my shoulder and shoved me outside, into the rain. I slipped and fell but, as I hastily gathered my feet, I could see the corpses of other Slavic guards on the ground, with some just too wounded to move. My grandfather had inflicted  _this much_ damage.

" _Run_!" Opa roared. 

Frightened, I dashed the way I had initially come. Where was I supposed to run to? My heart was racing in my chest and my legs were already hurting from having run back home. The village refused to acknowledge me, stall owners averting their gazes as they hurriedly packed their belongings and most others having retreated indoors. Desperate, I dashed down the roads. If I headed back to towards the forest, then maybe I could lose them? They wouldn't be able to easily find me in such a dense and dangerous place.

I hauled myself up the hill, nails biting in the dirt if I stumbled. A horse whinnied. Glancing back, I saw the young man with brown hair on a stallion the colour of tar, chomping at the bit. He looked like a demon, raising a blade stained entirely red up into the air he geared the animal to take chase.

"Opa..." tears bubbled at my eyes but I forced myself to go on.

Rain splashed against my face and my hair was tangled and streaming from the wind. Still, I pushed on, refusing to get caught. Opa would be so proud of me for getting away. I didn't want to see his disappointed face when they dragged me back. That was... if Opa was... I swallowed. Opa was alive. Opa wouldn't die like that. Opa  _couldn't_ die like that.

Horse hooves thundered. I looked back and saw he had closed so much distance. He was going to catch me and, with the way he held the sword, there was a high chance he was going to kill me. A loud shriek cut through the air. A black shape skimmed past my head, the rustle of feathers, and the horse cried out in anguish. I turned to see a black eagle rake its claws across the stallion's eyes. The beast went wild, bucking and lashing out, it's ride unable to get control of it. Silently thanking the black eagle- the  _Germania_ Eagle- I hurried into the forest, hearing his shouts and protests in the distance. The trees were dark as they loomed above and the sound of rain pattering against fallen leaves and mud drowned out the heavy sounds of my breaths and my rapid footfalls. I had been sitting here peacefully with Opa only moments ago. Brushing past bark, I could hear my breaths rattling all around me. My heart was pounding, a pulsing noise that seemed to echo through my brain. I couldn't see anything, wildly fumbling around through the darkness. The Slavic guard could've caught up with me at any moment.

Not only that, but the forests were dangerous places at night. Bandits roamed, people who would rape, kill and mug a young woman of my age. Nobody normal would dare go into the forests at such a late hour. I glanced back to see if there were any signs of my pursuer. There was no indication of him and I hadn't heard anything in a long time. There were no noises from the black eagle, either. Only the wind, the rain and the rapidly urgent beating of my heart. I wanted to fall to the ground and pathetically cry, but I needed to create as much distance between myself and Königsberg as possible. I splashed past puddles and dodged my way past thick trunks.

I looked forwards once more, seeing the glimpse of a main road of some kind, but also a flash of blue in which I collided with. There was a surprised shout as I tumbled backwards, landing to the ground with a painful thud and a splash of muddy water. I recovered, raising my eyes just as the steel of a sword pointed at my nose. However, the man standing at the end of the blade was not the Slavic guard as I had expected it to be.

"State your intentions or die," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end of this chapter! The plot thickens, doesn't it? Or, at least, I hope it does.  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Torwald Beilschmidt, "Opa": Germania  
> Ludwig Beilschmidt, "Lud": Germany  
> Tolys Laurinaitis: Lithuania  
> Feliks Lukasiewicz: Poland  
> \----------  
> 01) I've renamed the German Imperial Eagle (also called the Eastern Imperial Eagle) to the Germania Eagle, just because there was no 'Imperial Germany' in this AU. I don't know if it's still around in Austria, but it used to be native there.


	3. Ordinem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had a sudden thought, and it mainly concerns typos. I've been trying to proof read my work before posting, but feel free to say if something is spelt wrong! Also, I'll be using some French in this chapter that I hope makes sense. I studied it for about 7 years, but I don't think that did me a world of good. Anyway, if I get something wrong, do let me know! I like things to be accurate!!
> 
> As always, important notes are in the End Notes.

* * *

**He was a young man with silvery blonde hair, tied back into a low ponytail bound in place by a rich, royal blue ribbon.** His eyes were a soft, cornflower blue, which heavily contrasted with the hostility in them. He was handsome, stubble growing along his jaw with sharp, yet delicate features, a perfect mix between masculine and effeminate. Despite the pale appearance, there was something about him that wasn't Germanic. Perhaps it was the clothes he wore, a tunic of fine silks woven into dreamlike blues and lined with gold. This was matched with well-made breeches, cream or white in colour and umblemished by mud. A long cloak was attached to his shoulders by shining gold epaulets; the hood had fallen down upon their collision. Even though he was soaked by rain, he was a strangely attractive man; however, he had a  _sword_ aimed at my  _face_.

I had been forced on the run, I was being arrested for no reason, I was no soaked and muddy and there was a high possibility that my grandfather had laid his life down for me. In no way could I handle yet another stressful encounter. Tears,  _actual tears_ , built up at my eyes and ran down my cheeks.

"Please don't kill me," I bleated, hoping he would take pity.

"Francis, she's just a girlie," another voice, and someone placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.

I glanced to the blonde man's side and saw a man with such a strange appearance that I knew he couldn't possibly be Germanic. His tousled, curly hair was dark in colour, his skin a golden, coppery tan. Bright green eyes filled with life looked down at me, framed by long, dark lashes. This man wore a smile on his lips and he, too, wore nice clothes. Although far less excessive, with a plain, crimson tunic and riding leggings, he still looked well dressed. His leather boots climbed just below his knee and not a single scratch could be seen on them. He looked radiant and he also looked sympathetic towards me.

"Ah,  _mon dieu_ ," the blonde man instantly sheathed his sword and offered me his hand. " _Je suis trés desole._ You surprised me."

Cautiously, I took his hand and he helped me to my feet. I was wet and muddy, but tried my best to dust myself off. What a strange language the man in front of me spoke. I had never heard anyone utter a world like that before. Each letter had sounded as smooth as silk.

"What are you doing out here?" the brunette asked. "Girls like you shouldn't be wandering the wilderness alone."

"I..." I glanced over my shoulder. How was I supposed to tell them I was a fugitive?

"Are you running from someone?" the blonde man unclasped his cloak and draped it over my shoulders, despite my protests. He peered out into the forest.

A part of me expected the Slavic soldier to come crashing through the shrubbery, demanding my head. That didn't happen. We were met with the silence of the forest.

"I'm really lost," I lied, shaking my head and looking towards them. "I heard a noise and... was spooked. I thought wolves, maybe..."

It was very unlikely to find such creatures in the woods near Königsberg and since neither man seemed prepared to encounter wolves, they either knew such forests wouldn't have them, or were heavily unprepared. By the looks on their faces, I assumed it was the former. Even if both of them sounded very foreign, it was clear they had put research  into Germania and its landscapes.

"Lost, huh?" the brunette frowned. "Where do you come from?"

"Uh... Kö... Kopparberg," I replied and forced myself not to wince.

"Kopparberg..." the brunette pondered, before shrugging towards his companion. "I've never heard of it."

An awkward silence passed between the three of us. I didn't know what to say. If I waited here for much longer, the royal soldiers were going to find me. The rich, blue cloak given to me had already soaked through. I was shivering, but trying not to. The two strangers glanced uneasily between each other. Maybe I ought to head to Berlin? It was a city I was familiar with and I had a vague idea of what direction to head in.

"We're travelling from town to town," the blonde man turned to me again. "If you're uncertain of your location, you can stay with us for a bit?"

I didn't know these men. They could've been dangerous. They  _seemed_ sincere, but it was difficult to say. But then... what else was I going to do? I only needed to escape Königsberg and then return after a bit, once the soldiers were no longer after me. I wanted to see how my family were doing, but it was far too dangerous to be near there. The most tempting thing to do was to flop on the floor and cry it out, but I was stronger than that. Opa needed me to be strong.

"We honestly don't mind," his friend added kindly.

"I'll come with you," I turned to them.

"In that case, a little introduction would be goo-"

"We can do that as we walk," I interrupted the blonde man, striding in the direction the two of them had been heading.

"Yes, of course," he seemed a little put off by that, but followed nevertheless. The two of them stood either side of me. "Tell us your name,  _mon cherie_."

I didn't know what that meant. "Julchen. Julchen Beilschmidt."

He rolled the name over his tongue a bit, as did his friend. They seemed to be struggling with the formation of the words. The pair of them did have rather soft lilts to their words. Germanic languages were the opposite of 'soft'. They adjusted to the awkward interpretation, adapting to 'Julshen'. It was better than nothing. Neither of them made much of an attempt to pronounce the surname.

"Well, my name is Antonio Carriedo," the brunette beamed, green eyes sparkling. "Tony for short is good, though. Preferred, actually."

"Tony..." I glanced at his companion. "And you?"

With a flourish, he spun on his feet and walked backwards, looking me in the eye with a serene smile. He seemed strangely well practiced in the art of greeting people. An aura of excess radiated around him.

"Francis Bonnefoy," he took my hand as we walked and kissed it. "At your service,  _mademoiselle_."

"You're saying a lot of funny words," I told him.

Blanching, he dropped my hand and fell back into regular steps.

"I'll have you know, French is the most beautiful language you're ever going to hear," he bristled. "Even better than you've been gifted with the presence of an  _eloquent_ French speaker."

"Fr...ench?" I blinked.

"I'm going to assume this Kopparberg is an  _extremely_ isolated village," he grimaced. "French is the language of Region of France." I stared blankly "In Gaul? You must know where  _Gaul_ is, surely?"

"Hmm, I've heard of it," I replied. "The Province of Gaul. I wouldn't be able to say much about it, though, or where to pin it on a map."

"North of Germania," Francis offered helpfully. "You and I shall have to travel there one day, once the world is a better place and I will let you see all the beautiful aspects of, not just Gaul, but  _France_!"

"Sounds good," I laughed.

"I'm from the Province of Latium," Tony burst with pride and excitement. "We have the richest and greatest climate. More importantly, I come from the Spanish Region, which grows the best tomatoes across the entire Union. We can visit there, too, and eat tomatoes!"

"I think she would rather sightsee in France," Francis sneered.

"I'd like to do both," I said. "Tell me about these places. I haven't really left Köni-Kopparberg before."

"I can tell," Francis grumbled. 

"Latium is..." Tony paused to calculate. " _South_ of Germania. In fact, Latium is the southernmost Province, whence we get all the good weather. It's near the beach, bu the  _best_ beaches. The sand is soft, the sun is hot and the people are always friendly, so it's the best place for a  _siesta_."

"I think this girl just needs a geography lesson in general," Francis pouted sullenly.

"You're just bitter that she didn't gush over your homeland," Tony winked. "In that case, envision that Germania is in the centre of the Union. Um... you know what the Union is, don't you?"

" _Ja_ , the three Provinces of Germania, Gaul and Latium are united and connected under the High Province of Slavia," I said.

The pair exchanged a glance, before Tony nodded contentedly. "That's right, although there's probably something you should know about the Union, Julshen. It's very bad."

"Bad...?"

He nodded vigorously. "The Union was created for the purpose of channelling power and resources to the High Province of Slavia. Gaul, Germania and Latium all have to pay tribute, or risk getting razed to the ground, yeah?"

I frowned. I didn't know much about the High Province of Slavia, but anything I  _had_ heard had always been positive or pleasant. This... didn't fit in with what I knew.

"Another day for this, maybe?" Francis suggested and Tony nodded.

"The Province of Germania is, in theory, located in the middle of the Union," Tony said. "Your village is likely located somewhere in this Province, although I wouldn't be able to say where, I'm afraid. To the south is the Province of Latium, which is well known for its brilliant agriculture. Latium and Germania provide a large portion of food across the Union, although everyone knows a Germanic labourer gets your house finished first!"

"I work on a potato farm," I interjected.

"Never mind," he grimaced, before shaking his head. "But, listen. The Province of Gaul is located further north and also west, where the meet another coast. The sea at Gaul is much colder, the beaches stony, but fabric and accessories are incredibly rich in that Province. All the elites buy their best clothes from Gaul and women get their jewellery and cosmetics there. The special thing about the Gallic Province are the British Isle, though! It's a small, mysterious landmass with plenty of sheep, so the wool imports are fantastic. You can only get there across the sea, but I assure you, there's nothing more thrilling than being at sea."

"It can be sicking on your first time," Francis added. "But well worth the opportunity to travel the world."

"Finally, within the Union, there is the Pro- the  _High_ Province of Slavia," Tony continued. "From Gaul, it's much further east and far further north and by  _far_ the largest Province within the Union. It's incredibly cold there, though, which makes it difficult to grow a lot. At first, it's a wonder how Slavia managed to amass so much power with their supposedly little resources, but then I discovered they're practically walking on ground stuffed with gems and crystals far beyond the imagination! I hope you know this, but the Royal Court is in the High Province of Slavia, in the city of Moscow in the Russian Region."

"The Grand City of Moscow," I remarked. "I've heard of  _that_."

"I'm sure," Francis said forlornly. "At Moscow, the Royal Court sits, with King Ivan VII wearing the crown. Tell me, Julshen, in a small village like yours, how many routine checks does the Slavic guard make?"

"None," I replied uncomfortably.

"As I thought," Francis folded his arms. "There are many villages like yours across the Union who suffer from daily poverty- assuming Kopparberg is a small, isolated village like others?"

Slowly, I nodded.

"In that case, there are many other villages that suffer from a lack of resources to feed their people daily," Francis said sadly, a bitter tone creeping into his voice. "I feel especially for those in the Province of Slavia. With the terrible weather conditions they already endure, it's no wonder that famines constantly spread across the vast winter lands."

"You... don't seem to like the King," I noted.

Francis sent me an alarmed stare. "Don't get me wrong, I..."

His words faltered him and he downcast his eyes to the ground.

"No, I don't like the King," Francis admitted and Tony sent him a wide-eyed stare. "I've never met him, but Ivan VII is no different to any other Braginsky King. He neglects his people and represses the masses. Have you ever been to a city, Julshen?"

I shook my head.

"Good; they're hardly worth visiting nowadays," his lip curled in disdain. "Day by day, Slavic culture seeps into the veins of the land and the people. There's no longer a desire for independence amongst the Provinces and self-identity is slowly easing into nothing. You know, there's recently been a law passed that enforces the Union's spoken language be Russian. It's only a matter of time until the word reaches your village. The words you hear Tony and I speak right now are forbidden in most places. We could have our tongues cut out for talking in such languages."

"That... sounds horrible," I frowned. "I've never heard of that law."

"The Braginsky Dynasty is nothing but an autocracy," Francis huffed. "The monarchy works hard to repress the people and doesn't give a damn for those who are dying out there. I can imagine them now, swaddled in their silks and furs, gorging themselves sick and laughing about the next town crushed for resisting against absorption."

My eyes drifted along the fine clothes he wore. He seemed a little hypocritical. Francis caught me staring, before he averted his gaze with a huff.

"Some things are difficult to abandon," he added wistfully.

"The point my friend here is making is that Ivan VII, like so many of his predecessors, cares little for the well-being of his people," Tony jumped in. "If nothing's done about anything, his successors will be exactly the same. None of us have ever seen his face, for he only really appears within the main cities of each Province. Even then, those chances are slim, for he rarely leaves Moscow unless it's for military campaigns to demand more tribute from the exotic eastern Kingdom of China."

"What's that?" I asked.

"You've  _never heard_ of the Kingdom of China?" Francis paled. "Did you have a school at home, Julshen?"

"Mütter and Opa taught me what I know," I replied.

"Unless one of those words mean 'teacher', you had no school."

"The Kingdom of China is very far in the east," Tony hurriedly explained. "It's located in a landmass called 'Asia'. The people there eat all kinds of exotic foods and spices. Their food is delicious. Not only that, but they produce the silk that the royals and elites adorn themselves with. Although not part of the Union, King Ivan VII has conquered some eastern cities from them. It wouldn't be a surprise if they were eventually annexed. I suppose you haven't heard of America, either, then?"

I shook my head.

"Long story short, but America is a foreign land that nearly nobody has seen or been to," Tony smiled. "The people from there are nice and apparently, it's both hot and cold. It requires an incredibly long journey across the sea, which is time-consuming and costly. It's my dream to one day visit America, but you have to have a travel pass to board a ship there."

"Can't you get one?" I asked.

"Not without the King's permission," Tony said quietly.

Something told me this King was unlikely to bestow the privilege of overseas travel to the common people. But then, the King didn't sound good in the  _slightest_. If I thought back, then this was the same King who had sent his soldiers to capture me.

"What's this King like?" I asked, trying to remain casual.

"I suppose you haven't heard much about the government?" Francis commented. "Typical. It really goes to show how neglectful the state is."

"There aren't many people outside the royal court and the nobility who have met him face to face," Tony pulled a grimace. "I've seen him from afar during the parades of his coronation, but he was only a boy back then. From his policies alone, though... Not a good man. His father, Alexander IV, had many laws that constricted the freedoms of the Provinces. A lot of people suffered under his reign and it's known Ivan VII has followed such policies."

I didn't want to tell them the King had declared an order asking for my arrest. In truth, I wanted to return to Königsberg and see if my family were alive and well, but I suspected that would be a bad idea.

"Ivan VII needs to be removed from the throne," Francis declared and Tony's eyes widened.

"You can't say things like that," he gasped.

"I just did," Francis raised his chin. "She won't go spreading it around- look at her face. She's  _curious_ , not angry. She's not remotely offended that we're insulting her King. Ivan VII needs a forced abdication; Gaul needs its independence returned to it, as do Latium, Germania and Asia. I want my freedom from the Slavic Province."

Tony was silent for a moment, before he looked ahead and smiled. "I'd like that, too."

"What do you think, Julshen?" Francis asked, beaming excitedly. "King Ivan VII should be deposed?"

I thought of Opa and clenched my fists together. " _Ja_!"

They both exchanged a glance, before falling into step either side of me.

"It would seem my initial impression of you was wrong," Francis pondered. "You have a lot more energy than I attributed to you. Julshen... you don't seem to be a fan of King Ivan..."

"And that's OK, because we aren't, either..." Tony whistled.

"How would you feel about joining us in a quest to remove the King from his throne, to establish peace one more and to gain prosperity and freedom amongst the Provinces?" Francis suddenly grinned from ear to ear.

"Quest?" I blinked.

"Yes- a mission to improve our world," Tony added. "We call it 'Ordinem', a group established to battle Russification."

"It sounds..."

" _Fantastique, non_?" Francis said knowingly. "In Ordinem, you're allowed to be whatever nationality you please and speak whatever language you want. Any enemy of the King is a friend of mine,  _mon cherie_ , and Ordinem welcomes all who wish to see the Braginsky line come to a much deserved end."

I thought about what Ludwig would do, but he would likely refuse. Lud had always been passive when it came to the eyes of the law. As for Opa, he would... he would want me to stand up for myself, to find satisfaction within me and to follow what my heart was telling me to do. My heart was screaming a single answer, fuelled by the thoughts of Opa alone. Walking in between Francis and Antonio made me realise I held a new purpose in life, that I could make Opa proud of me. The King had crossed me with his attempt to arrest me and now I was angered.

With a smile, I glanced between the two of them. "How do I join?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Ordinem, am I right? It may have taken me 3 chapters to get here, but I'm fairly sure I've covered the majority of the story's blurb.  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Antonio Carriedo: Spain


	4. Fugitive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having loads of fun writing Julchen, and Francis is always a joyful character to represent! I really like the BTT, and this is a new way for me to look at them and explore how they act.
> 
> As always, important notes are at the end.

* * *

**They seemed taken aback that I had agreed.** The glances they shared between one another were filled with surprise. Their words swam through my mind. The idea of freedom, peace and prosperity seemed so tempting. Independence from the High Province of Slavia suddenly became a utopian future I desired. It was Francis who recovered first, whereas Tony remained dumbstruck by the sudden and bold response. Was this something I should've put more thought in to?

"Ordinem only asks for your loyalty," Francis explained. "Obviously, we can't officially recruit you until you've been confirmed worthy by the higher ups. I really doubt you are, but we have to take precautions, in case if those aligned with the King attempt to break our ranks."

I nodded. That made sense.

"As you're keen to join Ordinem, you may as well know where we're headed," Francis said. "We're currently on our way to Moscow, to a small base we've established near the enemy."

"For now, though we should be arriving at Munich," Tony remarked.

Looking ahead, I saw a break in the trees. A town at the bottom of the hill. The architecture was familiar to all Germanic towns and villages, with the plastered white walls and wooden beams to hold them upright, completed with thatched roofs. The roads were cobbled, although currently deserted due to the late night. It was a relief to me that the Slavic forces hadn't blockaded the place, otherwise the game would be up. Something told me that Francis and Tony wouldn't appreciate harbouring a wanted criminal. Strolling past dark and dismal houses, the pair of them stopped before an inn. Francis was the one to push the door open. How was I supposed to afford this? Obviously, I hadn't had the time to grab money on the way out. Hesitating, I deliberated about making up a lie and recognising my surroundings, before wandering away, but Tony instantly noticed.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Oh,  _ja_ , it's just..." how was I supposed to tell them I couldn't afford one night at an inn?

" _Mon cherie_ , I am paying," Francis said.

"You really don't-"

"For all  _three_ of us," he pursed his lips and cast a glance at a sheepish Tony.

As Tony wasn't paying, I felt a bit more reassured. Nodding, I followed the pair of them into the inn. It was dimly lit, but a group of men were still awake, beers in their hands as they talked and laughed. Torches flickered and a young woman with blonde hair maintained the desk at the front. Her dress hugged her breasts, exposing a lot of flesh and cleavage. A flicker of a smile appeared on Francis' lips and he hurried towards her within an instant.

" _Salut, mon cherie_!" he beamed, leaning on the desk. "These two will need a room for the night."

She instantly giggled at the attention being poured on her and batted her eyelashes. "What about  _you_ , Sir? Won't  _you_ need a room?"

"Oh, how forgetful of me," Francis made a show of fanning himself, a flustered pretence. "I was so taken aback by your sheer beauty that I could think nothing more other than how I wanted to spend the night in such  _divine company_."

"You're too much, Sir," she flushed, lifting a hand to her mouth.

"Yes, how very silly," he made a gracious sweep of touching his forehead, so melodramatic. "Yes, two rooms, then. One for myself and...  _him_." He almost sounded disdainful. "And another for her."

"I'll book them a room, then," she smiled silkily and he arched his eyebrows in amusement.

"My, my,  _mon cherie_ ," he mused. "It would appear that beautiful minds think alike."

She chewed on her lip as she took a key from her pocket and slipped it into his hand. "My room's one of the first on the right. I'll be up a little later..."

"I'll buy a bottle of wine for the both of us," he promised, paying for mine and Tony's room.

Francis winked at us as he hurried to the side, carrying the young woman's bedroom key in his hand. She gave us a near bored stare, slapping the key down on the desk.

"Door's at the end, on the left," she said.

" _Danke_ ," I replied drily, taking the key and turned to Tony with raised eyebrows.

He shrugged with a grimace, before motioning towards the back rooms. "Let's take a look and see what we can do."

With a sigh, I headed up the stairs into a narrow hallway. Door after door lined the walls and, as instructed, we went to the one on the end, on the left. Hoping the innkeeper's daughter hadn't cruelly given us the wrong room, I fitted the key in and turned it, pushing on the door with a creak. We were met with a small room, with a bed and basin, and not much else.

" _Lo siento, chica_ ," Tony sighed. "Francis can be so self-serving when it comes to women... I'l sleep on the floor."

"Don't worry about it," I grumbled, wandering into the room. "I have a brother. We've had to share before."

"Really," he said. "I don't mind sleeping on the floor."

"And  _I_ don't mind sharing," I scowled, turning. "I really don't care. It feels wrong to make you sleep on..."

Glancing down, the floor was riddled with dust. There could've been mice for all we knew and plenty of other not so pleasant creatures.

"If you try anything, I'll break your fingers," I threatened. "If you don't, then we'll be fine."

Tony fell silent for a moment, before shrugging and throwing himself down on the bed. "Good with me. I've been looking forwards to a  _siesta_ for so long..."

I wandered to the window and peered out. All I could see was darkness. There were no signs that the Slavic forces had arrived here, or were on their way. I had time. Time to reflect, time to rest up.

The welfare of my family was still a mystery to me. Every fibre of my body wanted to return to Königsberg and see if Opa truly was alive, if Lud was OK, if Mütter and Vater were coping. I hated to think the Slavic soldier had harmed my family. It was all my fault, for an unknown crime I had likely not committed. There had been no explanation of why my arrest had been warranted, but apparently the King wanted me locked up. Upon fleeing, I had encountered two strangers from foreign lands. They could have been bandits for all I knew, although Francis' elaborate attire indicated he was from a wealthy background of some kind. In the process, they had recruited me to some kind of group called 'Ordinem'. It seemed to be some kind of resistance group against the King. Considering what he had issues against me and what had happened to Opa as a result, I had joined Ordinem to oppose the King's corrupt reign over the Provinces. These two members of Ordinem, Francis and Tony, were currently headed to Moscow to meet up with more members and would recruit me in the process. Was it smart to be heading in the direction of the man who had issued my arrest? I wasn't sure, but I couldn't back out now, nor did I particularly want to. The idea of avenging Opa was all I needed to spur me onwards.

"Say, Julshen..."

The sudden voice snapped me out of my reverie. I turned and saw Tony had opened his eyes and was watching me. He looked contemplative, mouth turned down at the corners and curiosity in his emerald eyes.

"How did you get lost?" he asked.

"Oh, um..."

"I mean, it was late to begin with and you were running," he remarked.

He wasn't as spacey as he appeared, then...

"Bandits," I replied and he looked surprised. "In my town, it's usually very safe. We've never had an issue with bad people before, so it was perfectly fine for a young woman like me to still be working when the sky had darkened. I often go out into the forest to collect firewood."

"I see..." he frowned.

"I was doing that, and..." the lie was coming easily to my tongue. "They appeared out of nowehere; two or three of them, maybe. Anyway, they threatened me, so I got spooked and ran."

"You should've told us," he looked sad. "Francis and I would have taken them on and then you could have gone home? You still can."

"I... I  _want_ to join Ordinem now," I curled my hand into a tight fist.

"It's not a safe road," he sat up, sad. "The Slavic soldiers are ruthless; have you ever seen them before?"

I shook my head. I didn't want any association with them, even though I already knew of the cruelty.

"I suppose that's why you weren't hesitant to oppose the King, then," he looked forlorn. "I've seen a lot of people who joined Ordinem die, Julshen. The Slavic soldiers are pure evil. They take no prisoners. They're not afraid to leave bloodshed. You should see the General of the Royal Order. He's a fierce warrior who has never been beaten in battle. I've never faced him myself and just as well, otherwise I probably wouldn't be here today."

I didn't know what to say. Could Ordinem really be that dangerous a move? What did I  _really_ have to lose? If such a dangerous person such as the King wanted me locked away, the risking my life for my family seemed worth it. I supposed Tony had his own reasons for being in Ordinem. There was something in his eyes, as if there was more to say, but it wasn't my place to ask. As it happened, I held a purpose in joining Ordinem and it was likely very similar for Tony.

"I have to do this," I looked back out of the window. "I know I don't know a lot about the King, but what I do know confirms that Ordinem is my best chance of... It's my best option."

Tony didn't answer, so I glanced at him to see him bobbing his head up and down, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. Eventually, he yawned and stretched.

"I think I'm going to hit the hay," he confessed.

"What about Francis?" I asked.

"Don't worry about him," Tony pursed his lips. "He's fine. He's probably  _busy_."

He was right about that. I didn't know much about these people, but I certainly knew that lecherous men like Francis were to be avoided. Mütter had always warned me about men like that. Apparently, they were only out to take your purity, which was the one thing a woman could take pride in. I was even going to have to be wary of Tony. He was a stranger, after all. He could've still been dangerous. Mütter was always keen to tell me that girls who lost their purity, like the innkeeper's daughter, could never marry a man of good breeding, nor a man of decent morals. Still, I was tired.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I glanced towards Tony. He appeared to be asleep. Leaning closer, I inpected him, just to make sure I wouldn't be in danger in the night. Yes, he was definitely in deep slumber. It was admirable how quickly he had fallen asleep. Settling down beneath the itchy, woollen covers, I vowed to reach Moscow and join Ordinem. The King and his men would pay for crossing both myself and Opa.

* * *

I squinted against the light, straining as it swept in through the window. I could hear a bell being run. Sitting up groggily, I was amazed to see Tony continued to soundlessly sleep. There was a fervent knocking at the door. Stepping off the bed, I wandered across the room and opened it to reveal Francis. Somehow, he looked brilliant as always, hair loose today, although his clothes were a little crumpled. Concern was etched across his features.

"What's wrong?" I asked, as he strode into the room.

He closed the door behind him. "You need to explain to me why the Slavic soldiers are looking for  _you_."

"What?" I gawked.

"They're demanding a white haired young woman of Germanic origin from the local area," he folded his arms. "Unless you have an identical twin, I'd like some explaining."

"Do we have time for this?" I glanced around. "I was seen last night."

"Luisa wont' say anything," Francis assured me. "In fact, she's currently trying to stall them and sway them off."

" _Luisa_ wasn't the only person to see me last night," I hissed.

He huffed out a breath and shook Tony awake. "Honestly, I never believed we were housing a  _criminal_."

"I'll explain everything once we're  _safe_ ," I pleaded as Tony struggled against Francis' hands.

"Why should we help you any further?" he asked as Tony yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

"I want to join Ordinem," I told him firmly. "Surely the Slavic army are you enemies, too? Don't you need the support?"

He opened his mouth to speak when the door opened to reveal Luisa, the innkeeper's daughter. "Someone's talking. You need to leave."

"Damn," Francis grimaced, before staring at me. "Fine."

"There's two horses outside," Luise strode forward and took his hands. "Stay safe, Francis."

" _Merci beaucoup, mon cherie_ ," he kissed her lips briefly, before curling his hand in Tony's hair and hauling him out of bed.

" _Owie_ , what are you doing?" he complained sleepily.

"We're  _leaving_ ," Francis growled.

"Without breakfast?" Tony looked horrified.

"The Slavic soldiers are here," Francis said, frustrated.

"Take the window out," Luisa hastily tied the sheets together and slung them out. "Please, hurry!"

She may have only been helping because of Francis, but she was still helping. Francis ushered me out first. Clasping at the sheets, I slid down, feeling a slight burn on my palms, and dropped down the rest of the way. It was quite a fall, but I was ready for it. I was in some back-alley route. Moving forward, I made space for Francis and Tony to follow. Considering Tony was still half-asleep, he was a little slower. Luisa raised a hand in farewell, before closing the curtains and retreating from view.

"The horses," Francis peered round the side of the wall and motioned for us to follow.

We were surrounded by houses and other buildings, but the barn was an open attachment to the inn. There were back gates, which we scaled and Francis rushed up to the horses immediately. Slightly spooked, they shifted, but he was able to calm two of them down. Leading them towards us, he handed one lead to Tony.

"I still don't understand what's happening,  _gringo_ ," Tony sighed, removing the leash and climbing atop his animal.

"Julshen's going to explain on the way," Francis grabbed my waist and hauled me up onto the horse. He was stronger than he looked. " _Aren't you_?"

I huffed as he moodily climbed on behind me.

"Jump the fence," he instructed Tony.

Whipping the reigns, he shot forwards and the horse leapt over the short, wooden gate. Tony wasn't far behind. I clutched onto the horse's neck as we shot down the cobbled roads. The sound of galloping hooves thundered through the alleyways, until we managed to break out on to the main road. I glanced over my shoulder to see a powerful black stallion and, atop it, the young man from the High Province of Slavia. His armour gleamed, his green eyes were narrowed and he shouted his orders to his soldiers, facing the sword in our direction.

"They've seen us," I shouted.

" _Explique, s'il vous plait_ ," Francis replied sullenly.

"What?" I squinted.

"Explain," he translated coolly.

"The Slavic soldiers have caught sight of us," I repeated.

"Why are they after you?" he demanded impatiently.

"Oh, I'm not entirely sure," I confessed.

"What?" his voice sounded shrill. "It  _must_ be bad if you can't even tell me what you've done."

"No, I honestly have no clue," I argued. "They came to my village yesterday."

"Kopparberg?" he blinked.

"It's actually called Königsberg," I said. "I lied, just in case you knew the place."

"I don't," he assured me sourly.

"Anyway, they came to my house demanding for me," I shrugged. "The King has apparently issued for my arrest, except... I don't know why."

"How can you not know why you've been arrested?" Francis screeched.

"Because I've done  _nothing wrong_ ," I glowered over my shoulder at his incredulous stare.

"They have arrows,  _gringos_ ," Tony panicked, finally waking up.

Looking past Francis' shoulder, I saw the blonde soldier from earlier stringing his bow and taking aim, whilst maintaining perfect balance atop his horse.

"He's going to shoot," I said.

"Obviously," Francis looked back with a grimace.

The arrow was let loose and the two of them guided their horses elsewhere. The arrow whistled to the ground, dejected.

"We can't keep this up forever," I looked back to see the soldier was stringing his next artillery. "Don't we have something to retaliate?"

"I only brought close range weaponry with me, I'm afraid," Francis replied stonily. "I didn't expect to get into a horse chase."

"This  _isn't_ my fault," I growled.

We need to do something, otherwise we were going to get caught. As I sat up, Francis leant back, pulling a face of uncertainty. Without warning, I launched myself from the horse, rolling across the ground. The pair of them shouted out warnings to me, but I leapt to my feet and saw blondie facing his next weapon at me. It was like time slowed down. I was running across the grass, closer to the raging horse, just as the soldier released his next arrow. By some stroking of fortune, possibly because I was a fast moving target, the arrow skimmed my arm with a painful hiss. But Opa would tell me to focus. I grasped the Slavic soldier's arm and cloak, swinging myself onto the horse behind him.

"What are you?" he blinked?

I cracked my forehead against his nose and threw him off the side of the horse, grabbing onto the bow and arrow in the process. Turning in the saddle, I saw the young man with brown hair pull at his horse's reigns to stop, gritting his teeth. He had possibly killed Opa.

I loosed the arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has Julchen killed the soldier? Find out next time!  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> Tolys Laurinatis: Lithuania  
> Feliks Lukasiewicz: Poland  
> \----------


	5. Roderich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I'm seriously addicted to writing this. I've already powered through 4 chapters and now I'm on to the 5th one. I have a feeling the title of this chapter will indicate what it may be about, hehe.

* * *

**The arrow sailed through the air and he slashed through it with his sword.** For a moment, I had felt like a true warrior, but to see him break my weapon down with such ease was disheartening. He whipped the reigns on the stallion and sped after me. Fumbling for the bow, I flinched back when he made a slash at me. The string was cut and the wood splintered. Useless, I tossed the bow aside. He was readying the sword to wound the horse when I sprang forwards and planted my feet against his chest. His feet were pulled from the stirrups and we both went tumbling to the ground. He was quick to pin me down, his sword lost and he was surprisingly strong, despite no being especially large.

"You're a real pain," he cursed through gritted teeth, before pushing his helmet down.

I opened my mouth to protest as he pulled my shoulders up and smashed his helmet against his head.

* * *

I was lodged in between Francis and the horse when I opened my eyes. My heart hurt so much. I shifted, trying to get comfortable, but found I could only be groggy and unfocused. My head really was spinning. What had just happened?

"Are you awake?" Francis asked.

Groaning, I glanced from side to side. The horses were cantering along. It was still daylight. Tony looked as if he were about to fall asleep atop his mare.

"Julshen?"

I glanced back to see Francis peering at me, concerned. Gone was the hostility from before.

"What happened?" I slurred.

"Are you OK?" he ignored me.

"I'm fine," I said. "What happened?"

"Well, after you pulled that suicidal stunt, Tony and I instantly turned back in attempt to save your ass," Francis said thoughtfully. "We found you knocked out by General Laurinaitis, but since you'd  _somehow_ disarmed him, it wasn't hard to swoop you up from him whilst on horseback. How on  _earth_ did you manage to cross one of the most  _powerful_ men to exist?"

"But what  _happened_?" I gawked.

"Tony and I ended up killing three of the Royal Slavic Guard and wounded two," Francis scowled. "As of now, we're  _all_ wanted criminals, which removes all chances of being able to stay in peaceful villages nearby. We'll be doomed when word goes out, which means we're going to need to stop by a friend's at Berlin for help. Thanks for the unnecessary detour,  _mon cherie_."

"How did we escape?" I asked.

"Their leader was injured," Francis replied. "The soldiers were more focused on his welfare, so we managed to outrun the few who followed us. You've gotten us into a lot of trouble for someone the King wants arrested."

"I thought you were going to die," Tony admitted.

"So did I..." Francis pressed his lips together. "But then he knocked you unconscious and I'm fairly sure he missed the chance to kill you twice, from what I observed. Laurinatis doesn't make mistakes, so whatever you've done, the King wants you alive..."

"I don't understand  _any_ of this..." I groaned.

"Just to clarify, you're name  _is_ Julshen, right?" Francis shot me a sceptical stare.

" _Julchen_ , actually- you've been saying it wrong," I rolled my eyes. "Julchen Beilschmidt."

"A nobody, then," Francis huff. "What could the King possibly want with a commoner such as yourself?"

"I'll have you know that a member of the elites wanted to marry me," I sneered.

"A fictional nobility, huh?" Francis chuckled. "I shall have to check with Roderich on that one?"

"Roderich?" I frowned.

"My friend, in Berlin," Francis answered. "He'll arrange for us to reach Moscow safely, hopefully. The King won't be able to find us and we can figure out what to do with you and ourselves."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Everyone in the Union will know our faces by tomorrow morning," he sighed. "Killing members of the RSG is illegal and punishable by death. I'm not sure where we'll stand with Ordinem, but something tells me we'll become the expendable members."

"Oh."

"Katarina wouldn't do that," Tony smiled lovingly.

"She would," Francis paled. "And you're not supposed to say her  _name_. Julshe-Julsh... um?"

"Julchen."

"Julsh... Julich... Julchien isn't a part of Ordinem yet," Francis said pointedly, a mark of disapproval in his eyes.

" _Gringo_ , Jules has gotta stick with us now," Tony gawked. "Whatever happens, she'll be joining Ordinem, even if it's as kitchen staff,  _si_? She needs us, otherwise she's getting arrested big time."

"I don't think Katarina would appreciate you spouting her identity left, right, and centre," Francis arched an eyebrow. "But Jules. I like that. Can we call you that instead of... eh, whatever your name is,  _mon cherie_?"

"Yes," I sighed. "Just call me 'Jules'."

" _Excellent_ ," he brightened up. "As it happens, we're going to have to take a little road trip to Berlin after that escapade. From there on, though, our journey won't be difficult in the slightest. Roderich will set us up with something."

"This Roderich must be an important person if he can help us this much?" I asked.

"Oh, he's definitely important," Francis nodded. "He's a member of the nobility, which means he also has direct access to the King. He's our best source of information for what occurs in the court and other important political details we might require."

"That's handy," I mused. "How come you haven't assassinated the King through this Roderich, then?"

"Because Roderich's physically incapable and it would be impossible to smuggle someone in alongside him or have someone copy his identity," Francis explained. "Besides, he's not the head of his family and his father is pro-monarchy, unfortunately. Instead, he can act as our eyes and ears, rather than face unnecessary treason charges."

"I see..." I pondered. "That kind of sucks, to be honest. To have the potential to save the kingdom, but have your parent send you to your room for it."

"If you want to put it that way," his lips quirked into a smile.

"Every time we go there, he feeds us loads," Tony gushed. "Honestly, Jules, rich people eat  _so much_!"

"Really?" I could feel my eyes shining.

"That they do," Tony chirped, grinning from ear to ear. "They eat cheese on  _its own_."

"Without bread?" I gaped.

"Yeah, they just bite into these  _huge_ wheels of cheese until there's nothing left,  _gringo_!" he waved his hands around the air.

"That's a lie," Francis shook his head. "We don't do that. The nobility are a  _little_ more sophisticated than taking large bites out of cheese wheels."

"So, you  _are_ noble," I nodded. "I thought you dressed strangely."

" _Strangely_?" he bristled. "I'll have you know that this is the  _height_ of fashion in France, as well as across the nobility throughout the Union. You know, most clothing styles amongst the rich and royal are developed from France."

"If you're a noble, then why aren't you sitting in your luxuries, ignoring the world outside?" I asked. "I've never had anyone important pay me any mind."

"Apart from this noble you so speak of?" Francis smirked.

"Until he came along," I added.

"Don't forget the King," Tony chimed in. "He's important and he seems to know about you."

"Sadly."

"I had a falling out with my family, simply put," Francis smiled. "About marriage. I'm not ready for commitment, so... relations fell apart. I was very different to my family. Liberty and revolution have always been prevalent amongst the youth of France, but the older generations hold far more traditional autocratic views. It's very similar with Roderich and other Germanic elites."

"I see..."

"Have you ever been to a city before?" Francis asked.

" _I_ haven't, but Opa and Vater have," I said proudly. "I mean, Grandpa and Father have."

"Ah, well... I think you'll like it there," he smiled, suddenly in a faraway place. "There's nothing like the city, Julshen- Jules. There are so many people to interact with, so many activities to do. You can never have a boring day there. There's culture, business, festivals, entertainment- anything you could ever hope for. The cities really do provide the greatest amusements that young people such as ourselves can glean from such places. What did your relatives think of the cities?"

"They went to Berlin and Opa didn't like it," I admitted. "Vater wasn't a huge fan, either."

"Oh, really?" he sounded disappointed. "Well, as I said, cities are good for  _young_ people.  _You'll_ like it, Jules. If you ever felt out of place in your hometown, you'll find there's a lot of like-minded people in the cities."

"Really?" I frowned.

"Ah, so we  _do_ have a little outsider her," he pinched my ribs and I squirmed. "I jest."

"I suppose you're right," I pondered. "We met in our girl to reach the city of Moscow and technically we both don't want to get married."

"You're just saying that," he laughed. "Every girl wants to stand in a beautiful white dress with a handsome husband beside her."

"No, really, I'm not quite ready for settling down," I stared down at the horse's mane as we rode. "It's never appealed to me. I've always liked the freedom of being independent. Having to tie myself down to a husband, to children... It's never really been my calling. I was supposed to get married to this elite, you see?"

"Fear not," Francis smiled. "Once you're branded a criminal, your marriage with him will be automatically dissolved. If not, I'll speak with Roderich and have your fiancé rethink his life decisions. If your family have visited Berlin before, I suppose Kopparberg is nearby?"

"Königsberg, and yes, not too far," I replied. "You could get there in half a day."

"Are you sure you don't want us to drop you off back home?" Tony asked.

"I don't want to endanger my family," I replied, even though I was fairly sure I already had. "If I go back and the Slavic soldiers discover my location, my family might suffer for whatever mistakes I've made."

"That's fair," Tony nodded.

"I can be your new 'big brother'," Francis reassured her with a knowing smile. "Just come into my arms if you ever have a problem,  _mon cherie_ , and I will sort it all out for you. Our journey probably won't be much longer, considering we didn't actually get that far... If anything, I'd say it's a shorter ride. Tell me, though, how do you get your hair this colour? I've never seen anything like it before."

"I was... born that way," I rolled the words around my mouth. "Yes. I don't know why, but I look different because of it. Most people in Königsberg have blonde hair. Also, my eyes get really irritated in the extreme sunlight."

"Maybe you wouldn't like Latium, then," Tony seemed downcast at the prospect.

"Don't get me wrong, I love the sun," I replied. "It just irritates me a little. I suspect I need an eyepiece, because sometimes I can't see faraway things."

"What about books?" Francis asked. "They're usually a test of whether you need your eyes tested."

"I... can't read."

"Never mind, then," he chuckled. "I think you can live without glasses at this stage of your life, in all honesty."

"Whats it like being a noble?" I asked.

"Very good; you never have to do anything," Francis smiled. "You get clothed, you get fed, jobs are easy to come by, you never wish you could afford things because you can and you actually hold an influence on society, not that many of them do... I wish I could live the aristocratic life once more. And eat wheels of cheese."

"I would like to eat wheels of cheese, too," Tony gushed.

"Me, three," I let a wide smile reach my face. "I've never had cheese before, but Opa did and he said it was nice."

"You've never had  _cheese_?" Francis looked offended.

"I've had  _butter_ , but never cheese," I frowned.

"Then you haven't lived,  _mon cherie_ ," he despaired. "I'll have Roderich serve you as much cheese as you could possibly desire. Wheels and wheels of it, until you hate the taste of it, but still want to eat more."

"What else do nobles eat?" I asked, awed. "What do they drink?"

"We like wine," Francis beamed. "Although, I've heard vodka is a drink only served at royal parties. I've never had it myself, so I would suggest wine."

"I like wine, too," Tony was almost drooling.

"I've had beer?" I asked, glancing around.

"Beer is..." Francis shared a look with Tony. "OK. A bit distasteful. Common."

"Oh," I lowered my head.

"Don't be disheartened, though, because it is typically a Germanic drink," Francis said. "The nobles here will still drink it, since wine is far less accessible to them. They store it up and only serve it for special occasions to impress their Germanic friends, you see. Other than that, they may drink beer if they want alcohol, although Roderich prefers tea if he can't have wine. Gin, too."

"Noble people also eat something called  _chocolate_ ," Tony grinned.

"Only the richest," Francis huffed. " _I've_ never had chocolate and I was still  _very_ important back in the day. I believe chocolate will only be found amongst the King and his closest associates."

"I've had it as a drink but, apparently, it's also a food," Tony explained. "My grandfather brought some back from an expedition to the mythical America. It was so bitter until we added milk, and then it was really good and sweet. I've always wanted more since."

"Roderich won't have any, I'm afraid," Francis frowned. "It's far too expensive for his frugal family's tight budget. Needless to say, baked goods are especially served well in his household. I will weep when his chef retires."

"Me, too," Tony sighed.

"Meat is also in high abundance amongst us elites," Francis smiled. "Do you have a lot of meat in Kopberg, Jules?"

"Königsberg," I said. "We have a lot of mutton and pork. Beef on desperate occasions, but very rarely."

"I suppose you've never had a good pheasant or turkey?" Francis smiled and I shook my head. "You've missed out on so much foods,  _mon cherie_. One day, I shall take the liberty to make sure your palate is rightfully extended."

"I don't paint," she confessed. 

" _Palate_ , not palette," he chuckled. "Food palate. "You know, there are times when the nobles are even able to import Asian foods in. Some of their meals are...  _interesting_... but there's also a lot that's to die for. Asian cuisine is difficult to explain, though. You would have to taste it to understand."

"I like potatoes," I quipped.

"Potatoes are only the start of the your food adventures," he assured me. "In the meantime, we've arrived."

We had been talking for a while, but to suddenly see the city creep up on us was amazing. The first thing I noticed were the guards posted, but fortunately they were of Germanic, rather Slavic, origin. Our humble steeds approached and Francis paid an entry sum for all three of us. It seemed he still had a significant income, despite having been cut off from his family.

The city of Berlin was far different to any town or village I had ever laid eyes on. The roads were twice the width and packed with people and carts and oxen. The roads were far smoother, instead of cobbled and the buildings were huddled in close lines, made of bricks and stone, their roofs slates, not thatched. Buildings were also taller and more professionally made. There were stalls selling fresh fruits, fish, meats, breads, baked goods and other trinkets that looked important. People surrounded us, rushing around in busy routines. Their clothes were so different. I was seeing leathers, some silks, cottons, wools, linens, long sweeping dresses to shorter tunics to find made capes and cloaks. Swords hung at the belts of men, women carried fans, a cat watched from the corner of an alleyway, unnoticed by most, and children ducked past people's legs in some endless game of tag. Shouts filled the air as vendors attempt to sell their products, people chatted amongst themselves, a fountain gurgled fresh and clean water, carts and wagons creaked, and hooves clopped on stone ground. It was full of a life I could never have imagined existed. It was incredibly. I couldn't understand how Opa and Vater had disliked Berlin.

"Roderich belongs to one of the most wealthiest and important Germanic families," Francis explained. "So, please do show  _some_ respect. He gets offended easily. We're currently heading to the Berlin Palace where his family resides for most of the year, although he has another beautiful country manor in the more rural city of Vienna. It's far more beautiful there, but on the outside of the world. Perfect for a summer vacation. I've been there before, so trust me when I say I left a piece of my heart behind in the process."

"A family that owns  _two_ palaces?" I gawked.

"They're more of manor houses, although the Berlin Palace is very large and was once considered a palace for ancient royalty," Francis replied. "No longer now. Times had progressed. You'll love it."

"Where is it?" I asked as we moved through the city.

"At the heart of Berlin," Francis beamed as we weaved past people on our horses. "It truly is magnificent."

"I wish I could live in such a place," Tony smiled to himself.

"There it is," Francis pointed to a work of art.

It was a pale building of whites, soft greys and violets. Pillars rose along its facade, with tall windows of stained glass looking out towards the public. There were balconies and grand steps leading to a large, oak entrance. Hedges trimmed a garden and a personal fountain had been erected in the grounds. There were beautiful flowers everywhere and not a single blemish could be found. This was a place where money had been put into appearance.

"Isn't it marvellous?" Francis beamed as the three of them dismounted.

A stable boy was quick to arrive and take their horses away.

"This is..." I felt speechless. I had never seen something so beautiful before.

Francis boldly strode up the steps and lifted a golden knocker with an eagle's proud glower carved into the metal. Three times he bashed it against the door and a young woman, a maid, opened it with wide eyes.

"Oh, Francis!" she gushed.

" _Bonjour_ ," he kissed her hands dramatically. "Please fetch Roderich for me,  _mon cherie_."

"Yes, Sir," she curtsied, blushing, and hurried away.

"Smooth oper-"

"There's no need to 'fetch' me," a familiar, stiff voice rang out across the entrance. "I'm already here, my afternoon tea disturbed."

"Honestly, Roderich, I would have thought you'd be happier to see me," Francis smiled.

"Quite frankly, your presence means you need something, Francis," the owner of the voice appeared. "So, what is... Oh, my."

I was surprised to suddenly come face to face with the young Lord Edelstein, the man I was supposed to be marrying.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," he remarked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we thus meet Roderich!  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Tolys Laurinaitis: Lithuania  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> Roderich Edelstein: Austria  
> \----------  
> 01\. "Jules" pronounced as "Yools", not "Jools".


	6. The Help of an Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... I've already exceeded 15,000 words with this Fic, which is a promising start. I'm glad that others seem to have liked it, too!

* * *

**"You're pulling my leg!"** Francis laughed, glancing between us. "You two know each other?"

"Yes," Roderich, who was  _Lord Edelstein_ , replied uncomfortably. "I'm supposed to be getting married to her this week."

Francis choked on his laughter, his smile fading as he worriedly continued to look between us.

"What I would like to know is how she ended up with  _you two_ ," the noble huffed, dark brows pulling together in irritation. "Come with. I have tea set up and can get more for the three of you. I have a feeling there's an explanation to accompany this sudden arrival..."

"There is indeed," Francis wiped his shoes on the mat and stepped inside. "And tea is the perfect beverage to converse about it over."

The entrance hall had to have been three or four times the size of my house. It consisted of polished marble floors, cream in colour with dark maroon and grey veins pulsing through it. The chandelier above, with its rows of glittering crystals, reflected light across the floor and around the room. A magnificent set of portraits of men and women with blonde and dark hair were established for all eyes to see. Vases sat atop pedestals and an elaborate staircase, covered in a deep purple rug lined with a gold lace trim invited all who entered to explore the Berlin Palace further. Several rooms were hidden behind closed doors and the oak entrance closed loudly behind us as we followed Lord Roderich Edelstein through one of the smaller doors.

He brought us to some kind of living room that had plenty of bookshelves lined up against the walls. All of them looked like dusty tombs, leather bound in bland colours of red, blue, green black, brown and grey. Gold writing littered their spines, although it seemed they hadn't been touched in a while, what with the way dust collected on the shelves. Several sofas were arranged to face the sun, which beamed into the room steadily, overlooking the beautiful gardens outside. This was the kind of life I would lead if I were to marry Lord Roderich Edelstein. A Persian rug was draped across the floor and a small, low coffee table was decorated with teacups on saucers, a matching teapot and doilies to prevent spillages getting on the polished wooden surface of the table. A plate of bisciuits had also been provided; they looked sugary and doughy. My mouth watered just looking at them.

"Please, help yourselves," Roderich gestured calmly, taking a seat on a luxurious chair and lifting a cup into his hands. "And explain."

"This is complicated, but..." Francis frowned. "We may have crossed the RGS. To be more specific, we humiliated General Laurinaitis before his men and have openly defied orders laid down by King Ivan VII himself."

Despite the terrible news, Roderich didn't bat an eyelid. He maintained his composure, simply sipping his tea and taking a bit out of a biscuit. He took his time, as well, chewing slowly and swallowing delicately. This definitely wasn't a man who could assassinate someone. Spy, yes, but never assassinate.

"I see."

"We need to get to Moscow, but we're all wanted criminals," Francis grimaced, twiddling his thumbs. "If you could help us get there without getting caught, I'd be eternally indebted to you."

"Oh?"

"That's a promise."

"That's not difficult to do in the slightest," Roderich sipped his tea again. "I'll have a carrier wagon arranged for you, as well as attendants to make sure your journey on the way there is safe. What I want to know is how you managed to get Miss Beilschmidt involved in this tragic fiasco..."

"She  _caused_ it," Tony gawked.

"The Slavic army was after  _her_ ," Francis added. "They want to arrest her, for reasons she claims she doesn't know."

"I  _don't_ know," I insisted.

"Yes, of course," he said. "I forgot."

"You... forgot?" Francis blinked, thrown by the calm response. "Are you saying you know why they want to arrest her?"

"Of course I know," Roderich replied. "I have all the inside information. I hear all of the King's most important orders first, before the people."

"Why am I being arrested?" I demanded.

He looked unimpressed. "You of all people have heard of the Teutonic Legend, am I correct?"

"Yes," I said, whilst the other two blankly shook their heads.

"It's a popular Germanic myth," Roderich explained for their sake. "A hero arose to free the Germanic people and the other Provinces from the Latin Empire. A group called the Teutonic Order was formed to liberate the world, which they supposedly did. I personally don't believe in it all, especially since they founded an entire kingdom supposedly named 'Teutonia'. No evidence has been found for it ever having existed.  _However_ , it's a popular folk tale in the Province of Germania. Its relevance stands in that King Ivan VII seems to have heard wind that a new 'Hero of Teutonia' will arise and eliminate the High Province of Slavia's power."

"But  _I'm_ not a man," I protested. "And why does that warrant my  _arrest_?"

"King Ivan VII is paranoid about one day losing his throne, particularly as his own father was assassinated," Roderich explained. "He would believe anything that might potentially threaten his authority, this  _legend_ included. If you really remembered the myth, then the Hero of Teutonia was a man with white hair and ruby eyes. An albino, to be precise."

"What's an albino?" Tony asked.

"Someone with pale features and unusually coloured eyes," Roderich gestured to me. "If you read books, Antonio, you might know this. Miss Beilschmidt fits this category perfectly, with her white hair and sectoral heterochromia."

"My  _what_?" I squinted.

"The variation of colour in your eyes," he replied, composed still. "As I'm connected to a close associate of the King, my father, I heard that King Ivan VII was gathering as many albino children, women and men and having them executed."

"Executed?" I gawked. "But I was told I would be  _arrested_!"

"They go on that as a pretense," Roderich sighed. "It would look very bad on the throne for persecuting innocent people based on appearances alone. King Ivan VII can't risk more factions of hate rising against him, especially when there are still so many from his father's reign. The story of arrests hides the brutal murders done in private. In public, it's stated that crimes were committed, or that suicides occurred. Nobody would question authority, so it's been a successful policy so far."

"I see..." I lowered my eyes to the ground. I definitely couldn't go home now."

"When I heard of an albino woman living in the nearby village of Königsberg, I figured I could at least help  _you_ out," Roderich suddenly averted his gaze, his indifference melting into a strangely beautiful melancholy. "Proposing marriage was my best chance of preserving your life, as there was less chance of a noblewoman being dragged away by the Royal Slavic Guard and murdered out of sight. I apologise for any familial inconveniences I may have caused, Miss Beilschmidt, but I do hope you understand my reasoning."

I suddenly felt extremely bad about my ingratitude towards him before, so held my tongue.

"So Kind Ivan VII is slaughtering innocent people based on a  _myth_?" Francis raged. "That can't be right.

"I'm afraid it," Roderich answered, regaining his composure. "I've heard that albino populations have been depleted to incredibly low numbers. Miss Beilschmidt... Don't be surprised if there are now only a handful of other people like you. There were already so fer, so I can only imagine how low numbers are now..."

The more I learnt about the King, the more furious I became. Innocent people had died for his lunatic cause. Even  _I_ didn't believe in the Teutonic Legend and  _I_ was  _Germanic_. It was disturbing to think a madman was seated upon the throne.

"I'll help you reach Moscow," Roderich replied, stirring his tea with a finger. "You needn't worry about any marriage now, Miss Beilschmidt... I'm afraid to say I was too late."

Ice cold fear pricked my heart. "I... have you been back since?"

"I was to return later this week," I answered carefully, politely.

I nodded and lowered my gaze to the ground. It would seem that I would continue to live in this Hellish limbo, wondering what had become of my family.

"I'm really hungry," Tony announced loudly.

"Yes, of course," Roderich lifted a small, silver bell from the table and rung it. "I shall have food brought to you, but also rooms prepared each. Stay the night and I shall have all of your travel arranged by tomorrow."

"Yes, Lord Edelstein," the maid dipped her head and hurried from the room.

"My deepest apologies," Roderich frowned. "I would usually serve a full course, but my father is currently in the vicinity and he would be suspicious as to who I was dining, particularly as we had the Hédeváry family over just a few nights ago."

"No, we fully understand," Francis smiled. "In fact, we haven't eaten all day, so any form of food is good, Roderich."

"Oh my, not eaten at all?" Roderich lifted the plate of biscuits and extended them towards us. "Please, help yourselves. Dinner won't be ready for another few hours."

They looked so soft and golden, small and delicate. Reaching forwards, I grabbed a fistful of them and began chowing down on the baked goods. There was a little crunch on the rim, but the centre was soft and buttery. It was sugary and tasty, one of the best things I had ever eaten. And there were so many of them. I was amazed at how easily they went down. When I paused, Francis was giving me a wide eyed stare.

"What?" I said through a mouthful of biscuit.

"Nothing..." he slowly looked back at Roderich, who was nonplussed as ever.

"I love these things," Tony seemed to have the same line as me, taking as much as he could get and stuffing it in his face.

"I want you to relay this news to Katarina, if you may," Roderich looked concerned. "That is, if she hasn't heard already. I think she would find it interesting that the King is losing his mind."

Francis nodded his appreciation. "On this note, have you heard of anything else?"

"Not much that we don't already know, although it has been confirmed that the older sister has officially married the man who calls himself King of Asia Minor and Mesopotamia," Roderich laced his fingers after setting his teacup down.

"Our King seems to be making connections," Francis mused.

"Indeed, he does," Roderich said. "Princess Katyusha is currently still in Asia Minor with her new husband and their return is unconfirmed. I suspect a child shall arrive between seven to nine months."

"You think they've been married for as long as two months?" Francis looked pained as Roderich nodded. "Do you know anything more about this man?"

"Sorry, but no," Roderich pursed his lips. "I'm currently trying to get more information, but it's very difficult. I don't even know his name, otherwise I'd have more surety on his  _actual_ position in Asian society. They use titles such as 'king' in a myriad of ways, you see."

"No matter," Francis shrugged. "The sisters are only important if they have sons who could potentially lay claim to the throne."

"Agreed, which is why I hope this Asian King's child is a girl, if born at all," Roderich hummed, before the maid wandered back into the room. "Oh?"

"We have prepared refreshed and laid bread in the dining room," she bowed. "Food shall not take much longer."

"Very well," Roderich laid his cup on the table and rose to his feet. "We'll proceed to the dining room. We can discuss the plan of action from there on."

I had to reluctantly leave the biscuits behind. Technically, there was a promise of rich food ahead, but I had never eaten something like that before. Sweet food was a huge change to the bland flavours I had grown up with. However, the others were leaving. I had to follow. Trailing after the three men, I cast one more glance towards the biscuits before being led through Roderich's beautiful manor. There was so much wealth in the smallest corners I looked upon. How could someone possess  _so much_ money?

The dining room was full of splendour. Instead of wood or carpet, the floors were of polished tiles, an elaborate pattern of swirls and spirals. It had grown late outside and the curtains had been drawn to keep the night at bay. Chandeliers glittered above, flames flickering with magnificence that couldn't be displayed anywhere outside beyond these walls. I thought back to home, with its meagre candles. Comparing Roderich Edelstein's home to my own made me reflect to my poor family once more. It was too late to return; I couldn't ever risk endangering them. I desperately wanted them to be OK. There was always the worry that the Slavic army would return and use them for blackmail but, so far, I had received no notice of that. I could continue hoping.

We seated ourselves around the table. It felt odd to be in such a scene. I was unaccustomed. This wasn't the scene I was used to. Stiff backed, I couldn't relax. Francis was at perfect ease as he spoke with Roderich, who was just as relaxed. Perhaps Tony was less in his element, but he managed to blend. Was that a skill I would have to acquire over time? For now, I didn't know what to say, even though the only conversation likely affected my future.

"You'll need to get into Moscow without any form of detection," Roderich was saying, clasping his hands together on the table. "I mentioned earlier about the wagon."

"A delivery shipment," Francis dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I've got my concerns about that,  _mon ami_. Anything going into Moscow gets checked hundreds of times over. They look inside shipments."

"Briefly," Roderich correct. "They like people to believe they're thorough, when all they do is itinerary checks. The aim is to hide you in the produce and send it through."

"In the  _produce_?" Francis arched an eyebrow.

"Indeed," Roderich inclined his head, but said no more as the serving staff presented trays of food before us.

The four of us quietly awaited as food was placed before us. There was a large turkey, succulent and meaty, dripping with gravy and stuffed to the brim. Fruits and vegetables were arranged around the centrepiece and I could see a variety of buttery potatoes, roasted vegetables and fine wines to accompany the food. To have such drink imported made it clear that the Edelstein family was wealthy. We watched the serving staff clear out of the dining room.

"On this note, you won't be on a wagon organised under the Edelstein name," Roderich explained. "After all, this is an abnormal shipping time, which already causes suspicion. I can't have you go in the morning shipment tomorrow. I can't afford to have my father catch sight of you here. I can't even trust all of the staff members, as it happens. I have been giving it some thought, and I have to send you tonight. I apologise for the short notice."

"It's fine," Tony said. "The sooner the better, I say."

"The man driving the shipment is trustworthy, right?" Francis asked.

"Of course," Roderich idly lifted his knife and fork. "I wouldn't have anyone substandard working with  _these_ matters. No, the only people who will organise this with me are my close associates. I know these things. The wagon is technically ready; it's a fruit and vegetable shipment, so we'll hide you in the orange barrels. The plan will be fool proof, but you will have to leave by this evening."

"That's not a problem," Francis sipped his wine. "You've been of great help to us, Roderich. I owe you."

"Give the message to Katarina and kill King Ivan," Roderich instructed. "That will be the greatest favour you can ever return to me."

"You don't ask for much," Francis chuckled. "I'll make sure you-"

"Lord Edelstein, your father is returning from the theatre very soon," the maid rushed in, bowing.

"He's too soon," Roderich almost dropped his cutlery.

"We received notice that he disliked the play and has decided to return early," the maid shot the three of us an apologetic look.

Catching himself, Roderich wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose from his chair, elegantly dusting himself down.

"I'm sorry, but we shall have to cut our meal short, here," he swallowed. "It was nice to hear and see from you all. Please, come with me."

Seeing all of that food go to waste was heart-breaking. I snatched a potato from the bowl as we left and followed them out to the front of the house. A wagon sat, dejected and awaiting, crates and barrels sitting all around it.

"Climb in," Roderich told us all. "We'll have you covered up and then closed in. Don't panic if they open a barrel. It's only to check if what they expect is inside. They won't count vegetables one by one."

"Alright, then," Francis lifted a leg into one of the barrels. " _Merci beaucoup_ , Roderich.  _Et bonne chance_."

"Best of luck to you to," Roderich nodded.

"Can I have a few tomatoes in mine?" Antonio forlornly. "Just in case if I get hungry?"

"Please refrain from eating the produce," Roderich bristled as Tony hopped into a barrel. "They're still profits for my family at the end of the day, even if constructed anonymously. Please pass on everything to Katarina."

"Will do," the pair of them ducked into their barrels.

"It's OK," Roderich reassured me. "They may not be comfortable, but they'll get you past the borders."

"Will you go back?" I turned to him.

"Back to... oh, Königsberg," he frowned. "I'm sorry, but..."

"Please go there," I turned to him. I wanted to shake him for effect, but physical contact seemed like it would alarm someone like Roderich. "I need to know if they're  _alive_. If you can send a message to Katarina, I'm sure we'd have gotten to her by then and... if they're fine, tell them I am, too."

"I understand," his gaze wandered. "I'll do what I can."

I nodded and climbed into one of the barrels. Crouching down, I cringed as oranges were poured over me. It was almost suffocating, but there were the smallest holes in the barrel's sides that let me breathe. The lid was put over the top, sealing me and the fruits in total darkness. All I could smell was oranges. I winced as the barrel was lifted and loaded at the back of the wagon. I had no clue of what was happening. All I knew was that I was on my way to Moscow when the whips were cracked and the wagon began moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are becoming to get tense (I hope)! Julchen and her crew are slowly getting closer and closer to the King!  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Roderich Edelstein: Austria  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> \----------  
> 01\. RGS = Royal Slavic Guard


	7. Journey to Moscow: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven chapters! I'm dead impressed with myself. I really thought I'd have run out of steam at this point, like usual, but I'm really enjoying this Fic! I honestly look forwards to creating more depth to each character and I have so many plans for later developments in the story.
> 
> Until then, though, I'll just take a steady pace and see where I go!

* * *

**The journey was bouncy and uneven.** It was clunky. I felt a little nauseous, admittedly, but it was barely anything different to riding a horse. How far were we from Moscow? I was desperate to get out of this confined space.

"I really wish we could eat the food," Tony sighed.

"We're not supposed to talk," Francis hissed. "Anybody could be listening."

"They've got to have supersonic hearing to catch us over the noise this wagon's making," I scowled, now that the silence had been broken. "How far is Moscow?"

"We can't-"

"We gonna be here all night,  _gringo_ ," Tony sounded sympathetic. "You might as well try and go to sleep."

That was just great. That was all I needed to hear. I was being smuggled into the High Province of Slavia, and  _Moscow_ at that. This was definitely a crime, so I could add this to my no longer clean slate. Opa would be horrified by how far I'd gone. If I hadn't deserved an execution before, I definitely did now. I was crammed into a barrel of oranges, the acidic smell of citrus burning my nose. How was I supposed to sleep in these kinds of conditions?"

"Tell me more about Ordinem," I said.

"We're not supposed to be talking," Francis stressed.

"What do you want to know?" Tony ignored him and a loud sigh penetrated the night's air.

"Like, what do they fight for and why, and how it came to be, and what kind of people are a part of it," I shrugged, feeling one orange roll over my shoulder.

"Well, Ordinem fights for freedom," Tony began. "You might not know this, but all other Provinces are under tight control of the High Province of Slavia. The names themselves already indicate how indoctrinated we've become to believe Slavia is greater than the rest of us. We want to break away from such control and claim independence for our own Provinces."

"But is life really all that bad?" I questioned.

"Yes," he said bluntly. "Have you ever experienced a famine before, Julshen?"

"Not directly, but I know people in my village who had died of it," I replied.

"Did any help come to you, or them?" he prompted.

"No," I said.

"If you have been to a Slavic village, provisions would have arrived, no doubt, but only if said village was important to the state," Tony explained. "If the Province of Germania was independent, a Germanic government would have likely chosen to send aid to your people, do you understand?"

The system really  _was_ beginning to sound incredibly unfair. "Yes..."

"The Slavic monarchy don't help by conquering other lands and bending the people there to submit," Tony continued. "You said you didn't know a lot about the faraway land of Asia. King Ivan VII sent a military campaign out there some years ago  and massacred those who refused to become part of the Slavic Empire. You may have heard of the Kingdom of China, but you will never hear of the Kingdom of Japan ever again. Those who lived only did so because they were too afraid to uphold and fight for their freedom. Ordinem wants to change that reality. We don't want people to fear liberation, we want them to embrace it. So, we fight for freedom and we do it because the monarchy deny innocent people of their own minds and rights."

"I've never heard that term before," I remarked.

"What term?" Francis huffed.

"Slavic Empire. What's that?"

"All the Provinces rolled into one nation," Tony said.

"But surely that's just the Union?" I frowned.

"Didn't you just listen to him?" Francis scoffed. "The Slavs don't care about individual identity. As far as they're concerned, we're merely regions of conquered land that belong to Slavia. The term 'Union' is a glaze they put on the reality. They see us as lesser beings, based on our ethnicity."

"Oh."

"When the monarch is overthrown, we'll change that," I could hear the smile in Tony's voice. "We'll have the Slavic Empire dissolved and independence returned to all Provinces. We wouldn't even need to be  _Provinces_ anymore. Imagine being a nation of purely the name 'Germania'. The  _Kingdom of German_ _ia_. The  _Kingdom of Latium_. The  _Kingdom of Gaul_."

"It has a nice ring to it," I confessed.

"Doesn't it just?" he said excitedly. "That's the future Ordinem aims for. As for its history, it was founded in Latium, down in the deepest south where Katarina comes from. Her grandfather was the head, looking for a better life, but sadly he's passed away by now. Luckily, we have Kat and she's really good at handling the organisation."

"It's quite a new group, then," I said. "That might be why I haven't heard of it before now."

"Maybe," Tony laughed. "Although I won't like, Julshen; you're very out of the loop!"

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?" I smiled.

"You didn't even know the Union was an empire," he pointed out. "For your last question, there are all kinds of people who have joined Ordinem across the years. People from Germania, Gaul, Latium, Asia and even the distant lands of the Americas. No matter how different we are, though, we all have one thing in mind: freedom. Each of us aims to have an independent life, distanced from the High Province of Slavia."

"Are there any Slavic people in Ordinem?" I asked.

There was a pause and, for a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer my question.

"Not a lot," he admitted. "Although, a rare number are sympathetic to our general cause. Sadly, a lot of people in Slavia believe themselves chosen to be greater than all other Provinces, which has allowed them to arrogantly maintain their position in society. It's sad, but... that's life, I suppose?"

"How do I join Ordinem?" I asked.

"A pledge," he replied.

"What happens if I break the pledge?" I frowned.

"Are you planning on doing that?" Francis snorted.

"No, but I was just wondering in theory."

"Then expect to be quietly assassinated at some point in your life," he answered. "It's important that we preserve the secrecy of our organisation, otherwise each and every one of us would be executed."

That didn't sound good in the slightest. It was too late to question what I had gotten myself into. By travelling with them for this long, I had already signed myself to Ordinem. Still, the cause seemed valid and understandable and as a newly formed enemy of the King, I was more than willing to help them remove him from the throne. Being part of a community such as this, an organisation dedicated to the improvement of the world, was exciting. It was nice to feel like I belonged somewhere. Admittedly, having pale hair and strange eyes had always isolated me from all the other girls when we were younger. They all had had flowing, golden blonde hair, healthy complexions and brilliant blue eyes. I had always looked washed out and ill in comparison.

"Why did you two join Ordinem?" I asked.

"Someone inspired me to," Francis replied.

"Who?"

"That's none of your business," he muttered.

I arched my eyebrows. I had thought, for a moment, that I had begun to develop a bond with these two. It seemed they were still wary enough of me to hold back their pasts.

"I have a similar reason," Antonio said vaguely.

If the friendlier of the two refrained from speaking, then I would never hear anything from either of them. It wasn't worth pressing for answers. Whatever their reasons, they were personal and too important to share with a stranger such as myself.

"We should sleep," Francis insisted. "We'll need to be sharp for sneaking off later and any more conversation could risk us getting heard by passers-by."

"Sounds good to me," Tony yawned. "I haven't had a  _siesta_ in a while, so..."

I shook my head and listened as silence set in amongst the three of us. I didn't particularly want to sleep, since I knew they were just avoiding further conversation, but my eyelids  _were_ getting heavy and my limbs did feel a little thick with fatigue. Once I closed my eyes, it was easy to convince myself that I was tired. It had been  along day of avoiding the authorities, after all.

* * *

I awoke to the wagon halting to a rough stop. Stirring, I almost panicked to find such a restricted place around me, but then remembered my orange hovel was my safe haven. Squinting against the darkness, I was surprised to see through the hair hole that the world outside had begun to grow brighter. Somehow, I really had managed to fall asleep despite the cramp and discomfort.

"It's protocol, now," a voice rang out from outside the wagon. "The security measures have risen after a recent attack in St. Petersburg. I assure you that you'll receive your payment here on now, but we can't allow you to go further."

I furrowed my brow and turned my head, wondering what was going on.

"I wasn't alerted to such changes," the driver was saying.

"You needn't worry," the other voice said silkily. "As Chief Administrator, all goods will be transported to the right places. These precautions are merely so we can check if any produce has been contaminated-  _not that I am accusing you of treason, good Sir_.  What company do you work for?"

"Independent," the wagon man grunted.

"Very good," the Chief Administrator remarked. "We'll count up the produce and you'll receive your payment immediately. We'll even include the original distance payment, as this is your first time having encountered this. Next time, however, do remember that non-Slavic vehicles aren't permitted to travel beyond the borders. My men and I have remarkable memory when it comes to faces, so  _lying_ won't help you. Am I understood?"

"Of course," the man said.

I listened as the back of the wagon was opened up and heavy boots hit the wood, shaking the floor. Were the others awake? I hadn't heard a sound from them. Was this supposed to be happening? The driver had seemed uncertain. I heard the thud of a lid being opened. Roderich had warned us of that, so there were no problems so far. Still, I could feel the sweat of panic breaking out across my skin. With a huff, the barrel under inspection was hauled away. Roderich hadn't warned us of  _this_. Something had gone wrong. Something unanticipated was occurring and we were stuck. It didn't take long for my barrel to reach inspection. The lid was pulled off and then plonked back on. So far, so good. There was a heave and a grunt and then a loud exhale.

"This one's heavy," a man with a strange accent remarked.

"Oh?" the Chief Administrator didn't sound impressed.

"Is it a barrel towards the back of the wagon?" the driver suggested. "Those were the first we filled to they have more inside, as we were trying to reduce space consumption in the wagon."

"I see," the voice said. "Put the heavier barrels in the second cart."

Another set of footsteps joined the first and my barrel was hauled from the ground. I was carried out into sunlight. This was a nightmare. I was being separated from Francis and Antonio already.

"I promise the heavier barrels won't be any more contaminated, Sir," the driver insisted. "There's no need to section them off."

"You needn't worry," my barrel was opened again for a brief moment and then closed. I listened to the peeling of an orange and a short pause. "These oranges are perfectly delicious. We merely don't want to overload the first cart, is all."

"Yes, Lord von Bock..."

"I'm glad we have an understanding," the strange Lord said.

I tried peering through the cracks or tiny air holes, but it was to no avail. I couldn't catch sight of what was happening around me. I could hear the thuds of other barrels around me and wondered which one of those belonged to Francis and Tony. Eventually, there came the whip of a horse's hooves and the wagon I had been transported to shot forwards. I didn't want to instantly leave the wagon, so waited until a more appropriate time came.

The lid of my barrel was jerked open. I grimaced as the oranges were moved aside, but it was Francis looking down at me.

"Get out," he whispered and I did as told. Tony had already evacuated his barrel.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We need to get off this thing, and quickly," Francis worried. "Something tells me we're on a direct route to our executions."

"Seriously?" I blinked.

He nodded. "I'll explain once we're safe."

Cautiously, Francis edged to the end of the wagon and pushed the leather flap aside just enough to peer through the small space.

"How confident are you at breaking your fall?" he asked me.

"I've never done it before," I admitted.

"Just try and roll," he gestured with a hand. "Sorry in advance if you break any bones, but I'm sure you'd rather that than losing your head."

With a grimace, I watched as Francis pushed the flap away and leapt gracefully from the wagon. Glancing at Tony, he motioned for me to go first. Walking along the wagon and staring down at the rushing ground, I could see Francis getting smaller and smaller. Hands on my shoulder blades shoved me forwards. Panicked, I used a shoulder to break my fall in an attempt to roll, feeling a jarring pain shoot through my arm. My jaw painfully grated against the ground and I went rolling through cold dust and dirt. I was all limbs, folding over myself and feeling the throbbing on my skin where bruises would undoubtedly appear. With a groan, I gathered myself up to my knees and saw Tony not far behind, dashing towards me.

"Sorry,  _gringo_ ," he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I didn't want to lose Francis, yeah?"

I grumbled as he pulled me to my feet. My arm hurt, but it wasn't broken. Turning, we were met with an irate Francis.

"We need to get out of sight before the second wagon comes along," he insisted, bustling us into the trees and cracking past branches to get out of view.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Oh, right- you're a recluse," he sighed. "Did the name 'von Bock'  _really_ mean  _nothing_ to you?"

"I don't think she even knew the  _King's_ name," Tony said pointedly. "Never mind his closest associates."

"Lord von Bock is the King's closest advisor," Francis explained. "I'm very tempted to call him the administrative figurehead of the entire Union. He holds a similar rank to General Laurinaitis, except not in the military field. He's a dangerous man; ruthless to the core."

"How so?"

"He follows the King's orders with cold calculation, as do most of the royal court," Francis continued. "He's also incredibly intelligent, which makes him worse than many others. It would seem he's raised border control, because that definitely doesn't happen normally. Usually, deliveries aren't traded amongst wagons, but instead go straight to Moscow. I reckon as soon as von Bock found an anomaly in the barrels, he decided to ship us straight to the King. Did you see how empty that wagon was?"

I nodded.

"But now it's going to take  _ages_ to get to Moscow," Tony groaned.

"And more dangerous," Francis glanced at me. "Everyone in Slavia will have heard the decree against albinos like yourself. You'll be wanted wherever we go and doubtless someone will report your presence to the authorities. We're right in the middle of things, now."

It was cold in Slavia. A light frost covered everything. I didn't like it. I was used to the more temperate weather of Germania and also the sight of luscious, verdant trees that surrounded you wherever you looked. These looked gold and grey.

"I've got an idea, but neither of you are going to like this," Francis admitted, grimacing.

"Sound out," Tony said.

"Slavia consists of two major cities," Francis said. "St Petersburg and Moscow. The world revolves around these places. Everyone important gravitates there. Because the Province of Slavia is so big, it was required to establish two large areas that would boost economy, trade and diplomacy. By the sounds of it, St Petersburg was recently attacked, something we'll have to learn more about from Katarina later. My estimate is that the western half of Slavia will currently be more highly defended than the eastern half, which is saying something considering the  _King_ lives in the  _east_. That's fortunate for us, but it does mean eyes will have turned to Moscow, just in case if another second attack had been planned for the other major city.

"As for the rest of Slavia, there are a lot of rural towns and villages that receive a little less notice," Francis continued. "These villages will still have a slight guard on them, due to the attacks, I would estimate. It would be madness not to protect the civilisations closest to the borders, particularly as those are the areas likely to be most affected by bandits and the likes."

"Your point?" I asked.

"Guards will be stationed at such villages and they're wealthier than the average Slav," Francis smiled cunningly. "They'll have more provisions and better means of travel: horses. There are three of us, which makes conflict possible, although I would like to avoid any personal contact with the guards..."

"What's the  _plan_ , though?" Tony asked.

"We need to reach Moscow before the wagon we were just on," Francis turned to us both. "As soon as von Bock notices we've left our barrels, he's going to issue a high warrant to protect Moscow, which will make it nearly impossible to enter the city's walls. We'll have to travel across Slavia, which risks getting seen, but continuous movement should keep us from getting caught."

"How are we going to do that, though?" I asked as we neared the forest's edge. "We're on foot. We can't  _outrun_ wagons."

"We don't need to," Francis peered through the trees, before stepping aside and gesturing towards a village. "Our fast pass awaits us."

Both I and Tony looked onwards to a humble village sitting at the base of the low hill we stood upon. Lights flickered from the fiery torches they had around and a tent with the Royal Slavic Guard's emblem stood just outside. A campsite seemed to have been established, alongside horses tied to pegs, most of which looked impatient and bored.

"No," Tony said. "That's treason. We could get killed for attempting this."

"It's our best option," Francis looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Unless you want to walk?"

"Not really, but... it seems very risky," Tony's mouth twisted into an uncertain grimace. "Isn't there another way? Another wagon?"

"Not that I can foresee," Francis replied. "Roderich can't help us now."

"You want us to..." I pointed towards the campsite.

"Precisely," Francis grinned.

Although it was refreshing from his flirty and grumpy moods, it wasn't reassuring in the slightest, considering what he was about to make us do.

"We're going to steal their horses."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so our heroes have decided to take a gamble! Let's hope it all works out for them!  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> "Lord von Bock": ???  
> \----------


	8. Journey to Moscow: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so. I've been posting a tiny bit less lately, because I've had to be focusing on revision and all. Exams and coursework are officially the worst, but I suppose if I want to grades I need to keep it up, right?
> 
> Anyway, another update is that there's a giant spider lurking somewhere in my room and... I'm not quite sure where it went. By 'giant' I mean, like, probably a bit smaller than a grape, but not a BIG grape, if that still makes sense? Anyway, it'll probably scuttle across my feet at some point tonight and it'll be meltdown o'clock.
> 
> For now, I'm just going to pretend it never existed.

* * *

**The sky was dark, giving us coverage in the shade of the trees.** Both Tony and I stared at Francis. I had barely known him and I could still tell this was an idea that breached his character based by the look on Tony's face. There was an excitement in Francis' cornflower blue eyes and a determined smile had appeared on his face. I was grateful we couldn't be seen. We had enough time to tell him that his plan was sheer lunacy.

"Steal the horses?" Tony gawked. "That's  _insane_ , Francis. If we get caught, we'll be executed for-"

"You might not have noticed yet, but  _she's_ with us," Francis jerked his thumb towards me. "As long as she's here, we're up for execution for harbouring a wanted criminal. Not to mention we physically assaulted General Laurinaitis and the Royal Slavic Guard. In the most positive way possible, we don't have a lot to lose."

Tony was silenced in a heartbeat.

"Can we really pull this off?" I asked.

"It'll be worth it," Francis answered.

"Sounds exciting, I suppose," I shrugged. "Let's try it."

A soft groan erupted from Tony's throat as he resigned himself to his fate. It seemed he'd hope I'd object more. Francis' plan did sound completely insane, but... a little thrill wasn't beyond me. Besides, claiming horses meant we wouldn't have to walk across the cold plains of Slavia. We'd reach Moscow in no time. Not to mention, we couldn't let the wagons reach our destination first, otherwise we'd have trouble entering the city.

Francis motioned for us to follow him, which we did. Keeping our bodies low to the cool ground, I could feel cold grass strands brushing against my skin. There was a light dusting of frost everywhere and I supposed it only grew colder the further north you travelled. We reached the edge of the hill overlooking the village. It had little fortifications, with only a flimsy picket fence guarding the interior. The houses were small and clustered together, looking to be made of patchy, cheap materials, more so than Königsberg. Tents had been pitched to the side of the village, the horses tied to the fence, idly grazing. The soldiers sat around the campfire, just moments away from the horses, drinking and chatting amongst themselves. How convenient that their guard was at its lowest.

"If we edge down closer to the village, then we can untie the horses and go without their noticing," Francis whispered. "Which reminds me..."

He pulled the small dagger that had been sheathed at his belt and offered it to me. Quizzically, I took it.

"You'll need this," he said. "Just in case."

Slowly, I nodded and clutched the weapon tightly in my first. I wouldn't let go of it, ever. Down below, the guards were preoccupied with their conversation. It was nothing important, just banter about women, drink and responsibilities. If this plan went smoothly, then we would take the horses from beneath their noses and ride away. Ducking down against the packed dirt ground, Francis pulled the hood of his cloak up to conceal his blonde hair. I copied, keeping my own white locks concealed. It was easier for Tony, who blended in with the night, green eyes glinting like a cat's as he focused on the danger so close by. He seemed to be the only one who was still nervous about the upcoming plan.

The grass blade were cool underneath me and where they touched my skin, they left a faint itch. I could feel the rapid beating of my heart, but I pushed on, determined to keep through the plan. Closer, closer we inched. Each breath was coming out uneasily. They seemed too loud, yet the guards didn't notice us as we crept along, right close to the horses. Brown eyes turned towards us and one gently snorted, but none became spooked due to our slow approach. Francis was careful to stand cautiously and swiftly befriended his new ride with a gentle stroke to the nose. Tony managed to do the same. I rarely rode horses and mine still shifted slightly as I untied the rope from the fence. Francis grinned, carefully mounting the horse, with Tony glancing constantly towards the guards, who were laughing amongst themselves in the distance. I clambered onto my house and the damned creature grunted, uncomfortable by my presence. Still, it wasn't loud enough for anyone to notice.

Francis motioned- three, two one... and then forwards. All three of us dug our heels into our respective horses. Tony and Francis shot off. I didn't. The guards heard the thundering of hooves and spied the other two, shouting in horror at the very sight of their rides being stolen. My horse was a spiteful mare, staggering forwards, before whinnying her panic and bucking violently. I was thrown to the floor, the ache of the fall shooting through my lungs. The horse raced off, still crying, as one of the guards noticed me.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, drawing his sword and approaching.

Fearful, I crawled backwards before remembering the dagger at my side. Anxious, I waited for to get closer, until he was within arm's reach... Lurching forwards, I aimed for his leg, feeling the soft flesh give with the blade. He howled in agony, before grasping my arm and twisting it out of proportion. I dropped the blade, crying out as the dagger was lost in the grass, and received a sharp kick to the stomach. I fell back, winded.

The guard scoffed, looking at my face. "Lucky. Now I have a real reason to kill you, thieving whore."

Sword poised, he was about to kill me, when one of the other guards whistled.

"What are you doing?" he asked, strolling over, a third trailing behind him.

"She just tried to steal the horse," the guard explained irritably, forcing me back down when I tried to struggle from his grasp. "We were told to kill creatures like this anyway. I don't see the harm."

"You just going to waste her?" the other guard looked around him at me, disappointed. "Look at her! She's probably not married yet, you know."

"And?" the guard glowered at me with the curl of his lip. Had Francis and Tony abandoned me? I wouldn't have been surprised if they had yet to realise I wasn't with them.

The second guard tutted. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting bored. All the women here are ugly. I say we fuck her and  _then_ kill her."

"I'm not sure," the first guard pursed his lips. "These things are cursed."

"Move, then," his friend scowled. "I want a have at her. What about you?"

That had been directed to the third guard, who assessed me carefully before nodding. "Sure. My wife's getting fat, anyway."

The first guard rolled his eyes before standing and stamping on my stomach. With a groan, I automatically curled into a ball, barely having the chance to react when the second guard rolled me over and pushed my face against the ground. He was heavy, too heavy to push away as he pulled up the hem of my dress. Cheek pressed against the dirt, I opened my mouth to speak, to shout some obscenity at him, but instead tasted grass and mud as he forced me down. I could hear a distant thudding and thought... maybe, just maybe...

" _Fils de pute_!" Francis leapt from his moving horse and landed near us with a thud.

Sword drawn, he violently stabbed the man about to rape me, before plunging his sword out to battle the other two. Tony followed in suit, appearing out of the darkness and clashing with the other men. I scrambled forwards, away from the scene, and turned to look at dead man collapsing to the ground eyes hollow and a trail of blood dribbling down from his head. My heart was hammering in my chest and my limbs heavy with shock. Stunned, I couldn't move. A hand grasped my wrist and I jerked my head up to see Francis, his cornflower blue eyes blazing with a dark fury never before seen. Hauling me upright, he lifted me onto the horse he had stolen, just as Tony rode over on his own steed, worry rife in his emerald eyes.

"This won't go unnoticed,  _gringos_ ," he fretted.

"Of course it won't," Francis clasped his reins, arms either side of me. "That means we leave before any others arrive to see us."

He kicked at the horse and the creature shot away from its standing point. Riding a horse was still unsteady, but I held onto the leather straps attached to its smooth fur. Francis was right behind me, eyes trained ahead and the wind whipped through my hair and glided past my face. Suddenly, I felt free. It wasn't as if I had been trapped in Königsberg, but the routine had lured me into a false sense of security. Now, there was an entire expanse of the world beyond me, a promise of an exciting future.

* * *

I was awoken by the first fleck of snow landing on my hand. Stirring, I found I was still on the horse, leaning back into Francis. Falling asleep. How embarrassing, but I  _had_ been tired. Stretching my limbs out, I inhaled deeply and he whistled a morning's greeting. Craning my hear round, I could see the dark shadows beneath his cornflower coloured eyes. How had he and Tony continously ridden throughout the night? Did that mean we were close to our destination?

"Morning," Tony glanced over his shoulder, looking just as weary as Francis. "We've almost arrived, you know."

"Really?" I rubbed my eyes, sitting up straight.

Francis hummed in response. "We rode quickly and we were never that far from Moscow."

"I see."

There was a fluttering in my stomach. This was it, my chance to prove to Ordinem that I was worthy of fighting against the King. His soldiers had attacked my family and I suspected that my grandfather may have been killed for defending me. There had been no reason behind it. I could already feel my hands curling into fists. It was infuriating that someone so cruel could be the ruler of the Union. The fighting spirit of Ordinem was burning deep within me.

"Moscow's a very different place to the Provinces, by the way," Francis explained. "You might notice that it's a bit...  _wealthier_."

Berlin had been amazing as it was. Neither of those two needed to know what kind of basic standards I had grown up with. They probably already had an idea that I had come from a poor, agricultural society.

"How are we going to get into the city?" I asked. "I'd assume they have everything under guard."

"They do, but there's a special entrance for people such as ourselves," Tony chimed in. "Kat designed it herself, so it's extra cool!"

"Kat didn't design it, she  _helped_ her  _grandfather_ design it," Francis huffed impatiently. "And it's an entrance through the sewers, so it's not  _that_ cool. Yes,  _mon cherie_. I hope you don't mind getting a little grubby, because our passage is underground. If you're prone to sickness, say now. I don't want to have any unexpected occurrences happening."

I spent most of my life grubbing through dirty soil to pick potatoes. A little sewer nonsense couldn't have been that bad.

"I'll be fine with it," I remarked, as they steered the horses towards the left, opposed to straight on. "There's a lot I can take before I get sick."

"Good," Tony said. "Because, admittedly, the sewers are disgusting. I hate the man whose job it is to clean them."

"Can you see it in the distance?" Francis suddenly perked up, pointing past me to a shape emerging on the horizon. "Moscow."

I found my eyes drawn to the great wall ahead of us. It was an incredible sight, its smooth side somewhat pearly in appearance. Above it emerged domed rooves in different shades of all colours. They looked polished and curved into sharp points, with other towers shooting high in the sky. Berlin had been an impressive sight, but it was nothing compared to Moscow's exterior. There were guards posted along the walls, but Tony and Francis didn't seem to be bothered by this.

In fact, Moscow didn't seem to be their direct goal. The two dismounted and Francis helped me off. We had stopped at a roadside stable, a little inn that looked fashioned to be outside every major city. It stood on its four walls, waiting for us to enter, which Francis and I did. Tony waited with the horses.

It was a regular inn, so I wasn't sure why we'd come here. Francis, in all his brilliant blue regalia, approached the front desk with a flourish, flicking his once pristine and clean hair, now grubby, past his shoulder.

" _Verba loqui pro animabus nostri_ ," he said. 

I blanched. The strange, foreign language that had left his lips was a mystery to me. It sounded like something the Devil might chant. However, the man behind the desk seemed to understand.

"How many are you?" he asked.

"Three," Francis replied.

"You have any animals?"

"Two horses."

"How many nights are you staying?" the man asked.

Francis smiled. "Too many."

The man passed two leads across the table and handed Francis a rusted key. "Room six. Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks," Francis twirled the small brass item in his hand, before ushering me outside into the snow once more. "Catch these."

That was to Tony, who fumbled with the leads and guided the horses into the stables.

"What was that all about?" I asked, puzzled.

"You'll see," there was a twinkle in his eyes that told me I would indeed find out the truth.

Once Tony had tied the horses down, the three of us returned to the lobby. The man behind the desk dipped his head in acknowledgement before we beelined straight for the mysterious room six. When Francis swung the door open, I couldn't have been particularly impressed. It looked like any other room in any other inn. The walls were mostly clean, but the paint had begun to peel and the floorboards creaked beneath our feet. There was a large, sheepskin rug that had been stitched together to cover a large portion of the floor and gave the room a musty animal smell. It reminded me of home. There was a single window that was collecting dust and grime and overlooked the cold plains that surrounded the little building. It wasn't invigorating or remotely promising. There was a wooden wardrobe that looked like it was ready to collapse and a double bed with a rough looking wool blanket stretched across it. Really and truly, it was just like my house, except a little cleaner, less cramped, and slightly more accommodating. Depressing, really.

"This is it?" I couldn't help but feel sceptical as Francis opened the wardrobe, whilst Tony lifted the sheep rug off the ground.

"Not yet," Francis was still smiling as he lifted a wooden plank at the bottom of the wardrobe and pulled a slim, wooden cylinder from the open space.

Curious, I watched as Tony found another two loose planks to reveal what looked like a trap door. Francis inserted the cynlinder and pushed down, which raised the wooden door. Pulling it open, he gestured to the secret entrance, with a rusted ladder leading down into the darkness.

"This way,  _ma dame_ ," he gestured.

"Is it safe?" I peered down.

"Of course it is," he remarked. "If you'd like, I'll hold your hand on the way down."

" _Nein_ ," I grumbled, clasping the cold metal railings and flinging myself into the darkness.

The air grew colder and damper the further I went. For all I knew, they were going to murder me. I had to quickly remind myself that I didn't  _really_ know Francis and Tony. Still, they had saved me from both General Laurinaitis and the Slavic guards, so I had to appreciate their kindness and trust them to some degree.

I kept going further and further down and it seemed like the ladder would extend downwards forever, until my foot touched rough, rocky ground. Stepping back, I made space for the next person to descend.

It was Francis, who drew his cloak around himself and looked about in disdain. It was difficult to properly see his expression, given that it was so dark, but could just about make it out from the light left behind from above. That was soon shut out.

"I wasn't ready," Francis hissed into the darkness.

"Oh, sorry,  _gringo_ ," the ladder rattled a few other times, before Tony dropped down beside us. A sharp crack and a match was lit. "This way."

We were confined in a small tunnel that looked like it had been manually dug out with hands. This wasn't what I expected any sewer to look like. Francis wore a look of pure disdain as we walked.

"Back then, you spoke a language," I said to him. "What was  _that_?"

"Latin," he didn't flinch. "You've never heard Latin before."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he waved a dismissive hand, a knowing smile on his face.

"Of course you haven't heard of Latin," he said, amused. "It's a dead language, but it derived from the Province of Latium. Supposedly, when the entire world was composed of tribes, the Latium peoples spoke Latin. It was passed down and Kat's grandfather was fluent in it, which is rare."

"And that was a code?" I suggested.

"Correct," Tony said as we walked. "Since nobody really knows Latin, that phrases was designed to be uttered to the inn keeper. He works for Ordinem, by the way. It's so that nobody can be accidentally assigned room six, and only members of Ordinem carry such knowledge."

"Apart from you, now," Francis said thoughtfully. "No matter. You're resolved to join anyway. Ten minutes after we enter room six, the inn keeper cleans up the evidence left behind."

"Just ten minutes?" I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if the man was already working away to hide the evidence.

"Yes," Francis nodded. "If the ten minutes and one is still loitering, then it's clear they're not members of Ordinem. The inn keeper requests they move rooms due to a discovery of rat scratchings found in that particular room. If they refuse, they're instantly suspicious; if not, then at least they've been removed from the critical room. All members of Ordinem know exactly where to look, so it would never take them ten minutes to leave the room, you see."

"That's clever," I said.

"It's cautious," Francis replied. "And for good reason."

The three of us had reached a wooden door, which Tony moved to open.

"From here on, we need to be quiet and stealthy,  _gringos_ ," he explained. "Guards are sometimes made to patrol the sewers, so we can't be too sure. If this entrance were to be exposed, Ordinem's prime entryway would be completely ruined and I can't have Kat getting mad at me over that, got it?"

I nodded as Tony pushed the heavy door open with the slightest of creaks. I caught the smallest glimpses of dark corridors, large stone archways and shining water, before Tony blew out the light and all was plunged into darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eugh, yucky sewers! This reminds me of the game Zelda: Twilight Princess, as Link has to escape the palace through the sewers after being transformed into a wolf. If you haven't played the game and you like the Zelda franchise, I'd really recommend it! It's an old game, released for the Wii in 2006, but if I'm right, it was re-released for the WiiU in 2016 in HD.
> 
> Also, it's wasp season. I hate them so much, but there's already been 3-4 that have snuck into our house in the past 2 days. Our house is prone to wasps and hornets, since we live near fields and trees. On this note, I personally believe wasps and hornets grow larger each summer and that science should research this as wasps as spawn of the Devil. Last summer I encountered a hornet that was roughly 7cm long (not even the biggest I've seen, but we're still talking a bug that's nearly 3 inches long- ha, no thank you)!  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> \----------  
> 01\. "Verba loqui pro animabus nostri" is Latin for "words speak for our souls".


	9. Katarina of Ordinem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A promising chapter where the elusive "Kat" will finally make her appearance! I'm sure a few of you, if not all of you, have already coined on to who she is in the Hetalia franchise, but if you haven't, then today is the day you get to meet her!

* * *

**The first thing that hit me once we were thrown into the pitch black was the overwhelming smell of excrement.** I tried my best, but it was difficult not to gag when the powerful scent surrounded us. The second thing was the scuttling of rats. It's not like I was afraid of rats, but it was common knowledge in Königsberg that rats were filthy and caused unwanted diseases and death. From the sounds of it, there were plenty of rodents here and a lot of them sounded relatively large compared to the odd rat I'd spotted throughout my life.

Francis pressed a hand to my back and began to guide me along. It was incredibly dark, but once my eyes adjusted, I found there was some form of light in the distance. It helped me pick out Tony's silhouette from the stone that surrounded us. The door clicked softly behind us. When I turned my head back round, there was no sign of it ever having been there. I supposed it was made to blend in with the walls around it. Ordinem truly were magnificent people. Rolling my shoulders back, I kept going, prompted by Francis' light touch.

It was difficult not to make a noise, but that was the goal. Every now and then, the tow of my shoe would scuff against the stones, but it was hardly enough to gather anyone's attention. It seemed like this was mostly a precaution, since there were no signs of guards anywhere. Tony just didn't want his butt kicked by this mysterious "Kat". She sounded like a brilliant character. Deep down, no matter how frightening they made her seem, I wanted to meet her. I had a feeling we'd get along. Ordinem seemed such an intelligent and vibrant community. They were interesting and intriguing and I felt myself being drawn into the world of Francis and Tony the more I listened to them speak. It felt like such a magical world and I was so close to reaching it. Tony was navigating the smelly sewers with ease, as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. Possibly he did, depending on how many times he and Francis needed to sneak into Moscow.

Were we nearly there? I felt a buzzing beneath my skin, the anticipation of having nearly reached our destination, the light at the end of the-

Tony immediately halted us by stretching out his arm. He pressed his body to the cold stone walls. That was when I heard it. Footsteps and conversation. Copying Tony, I held myself against the freezing stone, wondering if this would be the best course of action. What if they turned the corner and saw the three of us hiding against the wall? We'd stand no chance against armed guards, because they would instantly know we were intruders.

"-and it stinks down here," the voice carried around the corner, now close enough to glean the conversation. "I wish I could be like Tolys."

"Why would you wanna be like  _that_ guy?" another voice suddenly threw in. "All he does is follow the King around the palace all day."

"No, he doesn't," the first voice snapped. "He rides around looking cool and doing his duties. I want to be  _important_ , not patrolling the bathroom leftovers."

"It's not that bad," the second voice chimed. "Imagine if we had to hover around the front gates all day! Now  _that_ would be boring."

"I would rather the smell of fresh air than shit," the first guard grumbled and I could see the light of his lantern approaching fast.

I turned towards Francis and plucked the broach from his cloak, the shining golden item that probably meant a lot to him. He opened his mouth to protest, but I had already flung it across the sewers. The light was approaching fast, but seeing the broach splash in the waters down the other path was somewhat satisfying. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped.

"What was that?" the first voice asked.

"A bat?" his companion suggested.

"I don't know many bats that can't fly."

"A rat?"

"I've never seen a rat that can jump that far," the two of them appeared in view, standing on our side of the sewer.

We could see them, illuminated by the torch the shorter of the pair carried. His brown hair looked almost in the brilliant glow, amber eyes reflecting the fire. The guard behind him had flat black hair and green eyes, a vacant expression on his face as he assessed the darkness of the sewers. Nothing about either of them looked threatening in the slightest. I reckoned I could take both of them on at the same time, until I noticed the swords strapped at their belts. Like any other member of the RGS, they were dangerous people.

"Should we bother looking...?" the second one continued, the one with the dark hair. "I'll bet it's just this place falling apart. I don't really want to go sifting through that."

"Neither..." the first one grimaced. "And it's  _probably_ nothing, but..."

"But?"

"What if it  _is_ something and then it's  _our_ fault if something goes wrong?" he worried. "The King would have us executed for sure."

"Let's backtrack, then," the second guard suddenly frowned at that prospect. "It can't hurt having a little look there once again."

They turned on their heel and disappeared from view once more. Tony shot me the thumbs up and we continued moving. I didn't dare look at Francis. I could only imagine he was angry at me. We followed the light, turning the corner to see them walking and talking about what kinds of punishments they wanted to avoid. So, even the guards feared their monarch? That made sense. From the sounds of it, the man was a true monster. It only gave me a greater reason to join Ordinem. Even the guards, the ones who had not wronged me personally, could be freed of their terrible ruler's intentions.

We traced their footsteps until Tony ducked down another dark and musty sidewalk. It stank even worse, since the space was more enclosed. The best thing to do was hold my breath at this point.

"That was a close one," Tony whispered once we were far down the path. "If we'd been caught, that would've been game over."

"Yeah," Francis huffed. " _Close_."

I dared to look at him and saw a glower being sent my way. "What?"

"You ruined everything," he sulked. "Someone like you has probably never laid hands on something that expensive and you just chuck it in piss and shit."

The only think I cared about was food. "It was the only thing we had that was throwable."

"I'm sure there are  _plenty_ of loose stones in the walls or on the floor," he grumbled.

"I needed something relatively light," I shrugged. "So that I could throw it far. Sorry, but your brooch was the best option."

"Don't bicker too much," Tony warned. "They might head back this way and hear us."

"They won't," Francis scoffed. "Those two were imbeciles. Are we almost there?"

"Almost," Tony peered round the next bend before surging forwards.

"Good, because Julshen and this place are suffocating me," Francis continued to scowl.

" _Julchen_ ," I snapped.

"I  _said_ that," he glowered at me again.

I rolled my eyes and chose to ignore him. He could complain all he liked, but my actions had saved our lives. Tony had admitted, so why couldn't Francis? He could be so spoilt.

Tony suddenly threw open a door to reveal a staircase leading straight up. At the top beamed sunlight. The prospect of leaving the rancid sewers was overwhelming. Eagerly, I climbed up after Tony, not caring whether Francis had a few view up my dress or not. We were nearly free. Fresh air was sweet to my lungs as I emerged from a well. It was concealed by a small brick shelter and stood behind what looked like a dark and shadowy building. Tony wrinkled his nose as he wandered out of the little building and gazed towards the sky. It was clouded, but the sun was trying to speak through. The snow had begun to melt.

"Is that it?" I stared at the building ahead of us.

"Yep," he nodded as Francis hurried out of the well, coughing and inhaling deeply. "Are you ready?"

I glanced at him, surprised.

"Once you join Ordinem, you won't be able to return to the life you once led," Tony warned me. "This is your first chance to back out. Once we enter that building, you've passed the point of no return."

"I understand," I said.

"Are you  _sure_ , though?" he glanced at me. "This is a dangerous lifestyle."

"The King wanted me killed because of how I look," I stared at the building. "Opa, he... I think grandfather died because of this arrest. I need to see the end of this king's tyranny."

"I thought you might say that," he nodded and pressed onwards.

It was only a few paces away, but all of the running and walking had tired me out. They felt like the longest steps I had ever had to take in my entire life. It looked like a seedy institution, with all the windows boarded up and curtains drawn. It wasn't clean, with moss and ivy left to grow along its walls. It looked like... a brothel.

Tony knocked on the door, an anxious expression on his face. The pair of us waited as Francis caught up with us. This was the moment of truth. We could hear the latch twist and the door opened to reveal a short young man with blonde hair and friendly eyes the colour of periwinkles. A wide smile stretched across his face at the sight of Tony standing there, which instantly spiked to fear when he noticed me at his shoulder.

"Um..." he gestured between myself and Tony. "Is this...?"

"We can trust her," Tony grinned, clasping the other's hand. "If you trust me, that is."

"Obviously," the young man had a strange accent that I couldn't place. "Come in, then. It would be crazy to leave you outside. Where's Francis?"

"Just catching up," Tony jerked a thumb over his shoulder and I looked back to see the Gaulic man trudging up the slope towards the building. "He's in a bad mood,  _gringo_. You see, Jules here upset him."

"He's acting like a baby," I argued.

"Come in," the blonde man stepped aside with a sweeping gesture. "I'll let him in when he arrives. You remember the way, right?"

"How could I forget it?" Tony gazed around the decrepit building as if it were a thing of beauty.

It must've been a brothel. The spiced smells lingering in the air, perfumes that a respectful woman would never wear and incense was left burning near the windows. The darkness and the red coloured tapestries hanging from the wall. The dim lights. Tony and Francis had brought me to a whore house.

"Hang on a minute," I folded my arms. "Ordinem  _is_ real, right?"

"It's a disguise," the blonde man smiled sympathetically. "Whilst women are hired for such...  _reasons_... you haven't been lied to if you're walking through this door."

I snorted, gazing around.

"This way, Jules," Tony had wandered across the room.

Trying not to bristle, I followed him through to a hallway. I could hear the giggling of women in the distance, but he didn't bring me that way. Perhaps that was for the best. I didn't want to know what went on in Ordinem's disguised building. Instead, he led me upstairs, each step creaking as we ascended. Francis wasn't far behind us. My heart was racing in my chest. This was the moment of truth, the part where I finally was able to join forces with Ordinem to fight against the king. Blood thrummed through my veins and the thought of Opa, putting his life on the line for me, was the most vivid memory I held close to my heart.

Tony stopped before a door, rolled his shoulders back and tried to flatten his hair down.

"Get a move on," Francis said from behind.

"Come on, man, have a little sympathy," Tony looked at him desperately, before pushing the door open.

It was a regular sitting room, with a fire blazing to warm it up a bit. The windows rattled each time the window blew and the curtains were half drawn. Sofas and loungers were spread around a small table that was occupied with tea and snacks. Three people were crowded around it, assessing a map that had also been spread across the table's surface. It appeared they were busy.

One of the three people leapt to her feet. She was a beautiful young woman with waves of dark hair tumbling past her shoulders. Her skin was kissed with an olive glow and her green eyes blazed with fury. Her dark brows were drawn together. Her clothes were strange, too. She wore a tunic, which no ordinary woman would  _ever_ wear, and knee-high riding boots. There was something amazingly exotic about her. Despite being so small as she approached, an aura of power radiated from her. This was someone to be listened to. Instantly, I knew this was "Kat".

" _Antonio_ ," she barked and even her voice was a musical lilt. "We're in a  _meeting_."

"Oh, geez," he rubbed the back of his head. "I didn't mean to do that, Kat, I just wanted to say-"

"Then  _leave_?" she spat. "Come back later."

"Are you angry because I missed your birthday?" a dopey smile spread across his face. "I can give you a hug, since I couldn't find any other gift."

He spread his arms wide and approached her.

" _Cazzo_!" she backed off, blocking her face. "You stink of shit. Take a shower."

"We can continue the meeting later if you want, Kat?" a young man with spiky blonde hair was sprawled across one of the loungers. "Nice to see you back here, Tony."

"You too, Matthias," Tony dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Kat folded her arms and lifted her chin. "Who's that?"

"Me?" I pointed to myself. 

We were eye to eye. She seemed so much taller than she actually was.

"Who else,  _idiota_?" she scowled.

I wasn't stupid. I knew exactly what she was saying.

Pursing my lips, I decided to choose my words carefully. "Julchen Beilschmidt. I wish to join Ordinem."

She snort audibly. "What? You? I don't even know who you are."

"I demand to join Ordinem," I repeated, putting my hands on my hips and facing her. "I want to see the end of King Ivan VII."

Kat scowled. "What?"

"How can you hope to make a movement when you won't even let new people join?" I snapped. "If you respect Tony and Francis' judgement, you'll let me join Ordinem."

"Oh, don't say  _that_ ," Francis groaned, having caught up to us.

She tutted. "Julchen, you say? I don't know who you are and I have no idea why Francis and Antonio thought it would  _remotely_ smart to lead you straight here without my approval, but... you're obviously not on the king's side."

"Hmm?" Matthias seemed confused by her judgement.

"Alb'no," the last man rose from his seat, staring at me with sharp, icy turquoise eyes. "Do y'r rese'rch."

"The King recently issued a murder warrant against anyone with her colouring due to an old Germanic myth," Kat explained to Matthias. "Ridiculous, but that's the kind of person the king is. One false step, Julchen, and I shall kill you personally."

"Got it," I tried not to look unnerved.

"What's your verdict?" Katarina looked past us at Francis.

He straightened up immediately. "The ports were still empty, I'm afraid, and there's no news of a boat returning. It's a long journey, Kat, but I don't think he's going to make it in time."

Her shoulders visibly slumped. "Damn it. I'd hoped..."

"You can do this without him," Francis stepped forward to stand with Tony and I. "Trust me. You're stronger than you think."

"I hope so," she was staring at the ground, before she ran both hands through the thick volumes of her hair and turned towards the two blonde men. "Matthias, Berwald. We'll continue this later. Don't go slacking off to bed early. We still have a lot to prepare."

"Understood," Matthias leapt to his feet with a stretch.

"And don't go drinking the ale barrels away," she shot him a warning glare. "Otherwise I'll have you kicked out on the streets as the drunken mess you are."

He grimaced nervously. "Sure thing, Kat."

The two wandered slowly out of the room. Kat kept her head raised high, before assessed us once more as the door closed.

"Where are you from, Julchen?" she asked.

"The Province of Germania," I said. "A village called Königsberg."

"Haven't heard of it," she said and I tried not to grit my teeth. "Why do you think you'll be useful to Ordinem?"

I blinked. "I..."

"Don't be so harsh," Francis stepped in. "She's lived a rural life, so she's used to manual labour. She can learn to use a sword, trust me."

"She won't participate, then," Kat turned towards the window. "It'd be too dangerous to have someone like her wandering around in the midst of things."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"It means you'd get in the way and make us lose," Kat whirled around to give me a fierce green glare. "I can't afford to have dead weight tied around my ankle."

I bristled, uncertain of how to respond.

"I don't understand," Tony scratched his head. "First the meeting and now denying Jules any participation in Ordinem... That doesn't seem very fair, Kat."

"Katarina," she corrected him.

"That's now what she's talking about," Francis lowered his eyes to the ground.

Both Tony and I exchanged a confused glance.

"You should know all of this already, Tony," Francis added, looking at his friend.

"I forget things," Tony shrugged.

"Clearly," Kat paced her hands on her hips and sighed. "With someone as inexperienced as her, I don't want her taking part in the attack in two days."

"An... attack?" Tony blinked.

"Yes," Kat's expression became more serious. "In two days, Ordinem will launch its final attack against the Winter Palace with the aims of bringing the monarch down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to be careful that I'm writing 'Ordinem' instead 'Ordinum', because one means 'Order' and the other means 'Table', aha.  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> "Guard 1": Romania  
> "Guard 2": Bulgaria  
> Katarina Vargas, "Kat": Female South Italy  
> Matthias Køhler: Denmark  
> Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden  
> \----------


	10. Libertá e Guerra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one more week until I have to go back to university, boo. I don't want to do exams, but time is slowly catching up to me and.... yeah. I have to do them eventually, so. In the meantime, I'm going to continue whiling away the hours whilst I have the freedom.

* * *

**I must have misheard her.** There was absolutely no need for my jaw to have dropped and for my blood to run cold. It wasn't fear, but sudden anticipation. An attack on Winter Palace? That would mean the king and his court, a final showdown and I had only just arrived. Tony was speechless and Francis kept his gaze on the ground. It seemed he had known about this the entire time and not mentioned a word. Had he hoped to include me in the fight? A desperate ploy to have more people sacrifice their lives for a greater cause? I didn't mind, not really. I knew this path would be dangerous and I had known that, eventually, I would have to fight for the rights of the people. I just hadn't expected that time to come so soon.

"Attack the Winter Palace?" Tony repeated, dumbfounded. "But that's..."

"That's the goal my grandfather bestowed upon me when he died," she raised her chin higher. "It was the goal that Ordinem was created for. The time has come for us to act."

"Are we ready?" Tony pressed. "Do we have enough artillery?"

"We've been collecting artillery for the past two years," she explained. "We passed the intended goal three months ago, but we wanted more time for his ship to arrive. It hasn't, but he told me to launch an attack regardless of whether he'd be there or not."

"But what if it's too early?" Tony panicked. "Can't we wait for-"

"Antonio," she didn't sound angry, but her tone was clipped and final. "Don't test me. You know full well that we've been waiting for this day since the moment we joined Ordinem."

He lowered his eyes to the ground and said nothing, mirroring Francis.

"I suspected things would be this way when the time to attack came," she said. "We won't want to wait for the summer. That way, we risk that monster leaving for an expedition to the East or the Far South. Once he's on the move, it would be impossible to attack him. You know this."

"Yes," he murmured.

"Where have these sudden reservations come from?" she demanded.

What he said was most likely reserved for Tony alone. However, since I was standing right beside him and since his head was lowered, his mouth was nearer to my level.

"I don't want you to get hurt."

Katarina didn't hear him. Maybe that was fortunate for Tony, since she was already angry enough at him.

"Speak up," she impatiently held her hand to her ear.

"I... I don't want anyone to get hurt from rushing into things," he raised his head and looked her in the eyes, his gaze unwavering.

"We've been hurt before," she puffed out her cheeks irritably. "We're doing this because we're not afraid to die."

He stiffened. "You're... not afraid to die?"

"My grandfather died for this cause and, if I have to, I'll do exactly the same," Katarina hissed. "I thought you were exactly the same. Why else would you come with me and Chiara?"

"To die for freedom," he bobbed his head up and down. "

"Exactly," she tutted. "Stop wasting my time with these pointless conversations. I've had enough of you. Show Julchen to the showers and I'll get Chiara to prepare her a room."

"Of course," Francis raised his head at last. "I believe in you, Kat."

"I know  _you_ do," relief briefly flashed across her face, before she waved her hands towards the door. "Go on. The three of you are making this room smell bad. What happened to the washing upon arrival policy?"

"Sure thing," Tony forced a nervous laughand rubbed his hair awkwardly. 

Francis was the first to leave and I hurriedly tailed him. Seeing Tony scramble for a sentence was painful to watch. We trotted down the hallway and down a different flight of stairs. I had to assume they led to a separate part of the building. Surprisingly, we took another set of stairs down, heading back beneath the ground. Once more, it felt colder and damper, although it certainly smelt a lot nicer than the sewers.

"Most of the organisation is kept underground," Francis explained to me. "I hope you're not fussy. All women bathe in the same place."

"I only bathe once a week," I shrugged.

"That's disgusting," he wrinkled his nose. "Please. Wash every day now that you're here."

"You'll have to remind me," I said.

"Are you actually a woman?" he demanded.

"Yes," I pursed my lips. "For some of us, hot water is almost impossible to access. I didn't want to take cold baths, so no baths was a better option."

"I had a bath run for me every day," Francis strode along. "If only I could go back to that..."

"I just bathed in the lakes and rivers," Tony gushed. "Or sometimes the sea, when no one else was around."

"Yes, but you lived in a  _hot_ place," Francis scrutinised him. "The Province of Germania is mostly cold and mild. Besides, they don't have a sea to wash in."

"True," Tony said.

There were more people than I expected. We passed plenty down the hallways. I could see why Kat would believe Ordinem was ready to attack. It wasn't like they were short on people. In fact, they had a small army to attack with, which would surely be enough to take down the Royal Guard and kill the king before reinforcements could arrive. If it was true, then Ivan VII was the heart of the High Province of Slavia. Without him, there was nobody to replace him and anarchy would set in. Or, at least, that was the impression Ordinem had given me. As long as the king was killed, then there was a high chance that the world could be improved.

"This is the women's bathrooms," Francis stopped by a door. "If you need help with anything, just ask someone. There should be towels, but I can't guarantee a spare set of clothes until later."

"Not a problem," I shrugged. 

Pushing open the door, I was met with a damp and muggy room. The mist hung high, near the ceiling where it clung and drifted. The hot air clung to my skin and women wandered around wrapped in clothes and some wore nothing. I tried not to be awkward about my surroundings, but I was in an unfamiliar place, with a bunch of strangers around me. Mütter had taught me that no decent woman flashed herself around in a room full of strangers.

Finding a bath at the end of the room, I tested the water. Lukewarm, but that was fine. It was better than the cold water I'd been exposed to in the past. After I grabbed a towel, I stripped down and ducked into the bath. The water lapped over me, sitting in that cramped metal bucket full of water. I felt the liquid seeping into my pores, taking in the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past few days. Reaching up, I pushed the head cloth from my hair. It wasn't exactly decent to show my hair whilst it wasn't braided, either. Everything about my life had been changed entirely. 

I'd never been good at making braids. Instead, I had wrapped my hair in a bun to keep it out of my face when working. That had come entirely loose since the storm, so now the silvery strands fell around me without the cloth holding it at bay. Two days, I reminded myself. It had only been two days since the Slavic guards had attacked my family. My body felt worn and weary. I just wanted to sleep, now that I was surrounded by the warm blanket of water that lapped over my skin.

There was something about bathing that relaxed me.

"Hey."

Sitting upwards, I looked rapidly around, only to see a young woman leaning her chin on the nearest bathtub, watching me with disinterest in her blank, blue eyes. She had long, pale blonde hair that fell in loose, straight strands down to the floor, with her fringe carefully pinned away from her face. She looked strangely elven, with a small pointed chin and a narrow, oval face. Her eyes, dark and blank, looked thoughtful as she assessed me.

"You're new here," she told me. "I'm Thea Bondevik."

Automatically, I let myself sink lower into the bath. "Julchen Beilschmidt."

"You're from the Province of Germania," she said. "To be precise, the central Region of Germany. You're also one of the wanted albinos. I suppose it's been quite difficult for you to have travelled from the Province of Germania to here. Correct me if I'm wrong, but would you have anything to do with the deaths of some guards in Munich?"

I blanched and tried to find the words to say.

"News spreads," Thea said. "I'm Thea Bondevik, by the way... although I think I already told you that."

"What else did you hear about the guards?" I asked carefully.

"That two men and a young albino woman attacked them," Thea replied nonchalantly. "There wasn't really a lot of detail in the report, although General Laurinaitis did want them found and killed upon sight."

"Really?"

Thea hummed her response. "The news only reached Moscow this morning. You needn't worry, although I doubt you'll be put on spy duty, since you'd be recognised almost immediately."

"Right," I pursed my lips.

"Well, since you're new around here, I can show you where to find spare clothing," Thea offered. "I'm Thea B-"

"Bondevik," I smiled thinly. "Heard you the first time."

"I'm sorry," Thea didn't look fazed. "I forget a lot of things I say in a conversation. I'll try not to introduce myself again. Julchen Beilschmidt, you said?"

I nodded slowly.

"I'm good at remembering names," Thea grasped her towel and strategically wrapped it around herself without exposing her body to the room. She rose, tying to the top of the towel at her chest. "I suppose you've finished bathing, right?"

"Yeah," I cautiously reached for my towel and tried to tie it around myself as carefully as she had. Instead, I just got the bottom of the towel wet.

"I'll show you the towels," Thea began walking through the bathing room to a small side room that was cut off from the rest.

Women were getting changed into tunics very similar to Katarina's. There were cupboards with tunics stacked in different columns. There appeared to be five options, as the tunics had been strategically separated from one another. Thea took one glance at me, grasping me a tunic from the fourth row and a third row tunic for herself. 

"You look like a small to me," she added when she saw the confusion on my face. "Now you can get dressed."

"We don't have to wear dresses?"

"Not in public, no," Thea smiled. "It's really nice, although I would definitely recommend stealing a pair of drawers, because these tunics can be quite short."

"Yes," I remarked, watching a woman walk past, her tunic brushing the top of her knees.

"Anyway, it was nice to meet you Julchen Beilschmidt," Thea tilted her head to the side. "I hope we get the chance to speak with one another again."

Wordless, I watched her make her way back through the crowd. Had she not finished her bath? What a strange woman. I hid in the corner of the changing room and dressed in the short tunic. It covered what it needed to, but I definitely planned to take Thea's advice and get my hands on a bare of drawers.

Leaving the washrooms, I found Tony waiting outside.

"Oh?"

"I'm not creeping," he panicked, pushing away from the wall. "Francis is still bathing, is all. He'll take a while. He always does. Chiara said she wants to meet you."

"Who?"

"Kat's sister," Tony offered a faint smile. "She's really nice."

Should I mention his behaviour around Kat? Probably not. I barely knew Tony, so there was no need to say such a thing. I nodded and followed him back along the corridor. It was quiet in this place, regardless of the high number of people. I couldn't help but feel it was a little bit... lonely. There were dark walls and no windows, just darkness that pooled in the corners of the rooms. Still, I followed him all the way to the end of the corridor, where he pushed open a door that led to what appeared to be a dining room.

There was a girl seated, her hair tied back from her face as she gently stitched at a piece of fabric. The threads spread in fashionable colours, the embroidery delicate and beautiful. Hesitant to disturb her, I stopped in the doorway, but Tony strode forwards, loud and unabashed, drawing all of her attention towards him. She had brilliantly coloured hair, a reddish brown, but the light brought out the brighter, auburn strands. Her eyes were a brilliant gold, like liquid honey, smooth skin with the slightest tan, faded by the cold weather, but still present. She was, possibly, one of the most beautiful women I had met. It was amazing to see someone so unmistakable radiant. She was the complete opposite of her sister's sullenness.

"Tony," the embroidery was cast aside within seconds and she flew across the room, flinging his arms around his neck and pulling him into the tightest of embraces.

"It's good to see you, too," he laughed, returning the hug.

"You missed my birthday," she pulled back to beam up at him. "Kat was grouchy."

"I'm sorry,  _gringo_ ," he rubbed the back of his head with an embarrassed smile. "Won't happen next time."

"Exactly," she perked up, before finally resting her golden gaze upon me.

She truly was a remarkable woman. There was nothing about her that slipped beneath perfection. It was the way she blinked her long lashes, the angelically bright auburn locks that caught the yellowed, artificial light above our heads. Her body was like an hourglass and, although slender, you could tell she was fit and lean. There was so much life and colour in this one individual. I felt paled in comparison, but theoretically and literally.

"You must be the new girl Kat told me about," this woman, Chiara, took both of my hands in her own with a smile. "Julchen, am I correct?"

"That's me," I shook her hands, wondering what the physical contact was about.

"I'm Chiara Vargas," she released her hold with a small laugh. "Katarina's sister. The younger twin, as you might have noticed."

"It's good to meet you," I said.

"You don't sound Slavic," she remarked.

"Slavic?" I blinked. "I'm not Slavic."

"Where are you from, then?" she asked. "Kat never said. You're very pale, though, so I assumed you had Slavic origins."

"She's albino, Chiara," Tony input.

" _Albino_?" she looked fascinated, slowly circling around me. "I've never seen one before. When King Ivan set out an issue, I wasn't quite sure what Albinos were. Where is the Province you come from?"

"Germania," I replied hotly. "Albinism isn't a  _race_."

"Oh?" she recoiled. "Then what is it?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "A skin condition? I burn easily. An eye condition? I can't see as well as other people. I don't know what it  _is_ , but it makes me look pale."

"I see," she clasped her hands together. "How fascinating! I can truly understand why you would want to join Ordinem against King Ivan. Has anyone explained to you what we do?"

"You're a resistance group?" I suggested.

"That's a basic principle, but yes, that's precisely what we are," she began heading towards the door. "Follow me."

Tony and I scrambled to recollect our senses and hastily followed her from the room.

"Ordinem is a relatively new organisation, no more than a century old," Chiara explained cheerfully. "Regardless, we've gained  _so_ much support. There are a lot of people in the world who dislike King Ivan VII. I suppose that's why you joined Ordinem?"

"I hadn't really heard of  _him_ when I did," I admitted slowly and watched her eyebrows raise. "I didn't realise albinos were being hunted until after the Royal Slavic Guard came after me."

"The found you?" she glanced at me.

"A couple times, but we managed to get away," I said.

"What prompted you to join, then?" she paused before a door, watching me with a half smile. "You don't seem to know much about us, and you don't seem to have a strong motive to oppose King Ivan."

"I don't know much about Ordinem, and neither Tony nor Francis were exactly willing to speak much about it," I folded my arms. "Why does it matter why I joined?"

"Shall I go see if Francis is finished in the bathrooms?" Tony jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"Please, do," Chiara waved a dismissive hand and the Latino rushed away as quickly as possible. "Julchen, I want to know why you're here so that I can evaluate whether or not I can trust you."

I looked at her face, saw the kind smile, but noticed that, this time, it no longer reached her eyes. She was definitely the sister of Katarina.

"Revenge," I replied and saw intrigue flicker across her features. "I want revenge on the RSG, so ultimately, King Ivan."

"Explain," she leant against the wall, folding her arms.

"The RSG arrived at my home village, presumably in their search for me," I shrugged. "My grandfather held them back whilst I fled. He risked his life for me and, although I haven't returned since the incident, I presume he's no longer alive."

"So, revenge has become your answer?" she prompted.

"If King Ivan hadn't issued the warranty against all people like me, then the RSG wouldn't have had a reason to attack my home," I glared at the floor. "Then Opa wouldn't have been dead."

Chiara clasped my shoulder. "I like that. I can see there's passion in your words and your stance. We'll take the king down, and no one else from your family will have to suffer."

I nodded towards her as she leant on a door and pushed it open to reveal a large room. It was plain and wooden and, to one side, I could see an array of wooden poles stacked on the shelves.

"Ordinem was first established around fifty years ago," Chiara wandered into the massive room and I followed, our footsteps echoing around us. "By  _my_ grandfather. Romulus Vargas, one of the best men to ever exist."

She turned to face me and the flickering candles all around the room gave her an almost ethereal look.

"My grandfather grew up in the Province of Latium," Chiara explained. "He rarely told us much about his childhood or origins, but my great grandfather was supposedly from the Greek islands, much further south from the shores of Latium. From there, he moved further inland and my grandfather was born in the south of Latium, in some indistinct village. He moved to Rome early in his life, so the capital city was quite different back then. It changed a lot during his time there and he learnt a lot of new ideas from the kinds of people he met there."

Chiara strolled towards the stacks of sticks and clasped a pole in her hands.

"As he grew older, he learnt the world was not a kind place under the rules of both Kings Nicholas III and Alexander IV," she explained. "At just nineteen years old, he and his friends reigned in the need to see a new world order. They didn't want to suffer as the dregs anymore, so set out to make changes to the world they lived in. For so many years, they spent their energy gathering the members needed to make their dreams come true and in that time, my mother was born, and then much later, Kat and I were born. We're talking a span of around thirty years."

Without warning, she chucked the pole towards me. I fumbled with the awkward, rough, elongated wood, before glancing at her with wide eyes as she grabbed a second pole.

"I was one year old when King Nicholas III died from a disease contracted from the East," Chiara said. "So, I obviously don't remember it. But King Alexander IV was far worse than any other king of the modern era. He was cruel to his people and didn't care about the sufferings of others. Very much like his father, he was corrupt, but he also wore the arrogance of having an heir. Whilst his own father had been alive, Alexander IV had had a son, whom we now call Ivan VII."

She adopted a battle stance, golden eyes trained on me.

"My grandfather died on the 24th March, thirteen years old," Chiara said. "I was  _just_ seven years old when a wasting disease took my hero's life. As he lay on his deathbed, he told Kat and I to pursue the same freedoms he had strove for. Our mother had had nothing to do with Ordinem, and has avoided for as long as she's lived, but Kat and I opened our minds to revolution when, aged nine, an attack was organised to commemorate my grandfather's memory. King Alexander IV was successfully assassinated by Ordinem and our views became known to the world. Unfortunately, his parasitic son wasn't present, as was planned, and was thus alive to take the throne and continue the Braginsky monarchy."

Her expression was dark as she faced me.

"Do you understand how important Ordinem is to me?" she demanded fiercely. "Do you now know why Kat and I work so hard each day to see the end of King Ivan VII?"

It was not revenge. It wasn't even vengeance, for that had already been carried out so many years ago. It was pride, it was joy, it was determination and memory. It was the essence of Chiara's grandfather. Ordinem stood for liberation and, without it, Chiara's very freedom would be snatched from her.

I was about to respond when she had suddenly moved, fast on her feet. There was a sharp pain in the back of my legs as the wooden pole cracked against the bone and my chin smacked against the wooden floor, my pole skittering some paces ahead of me. Chiara carefully leant her weapon in between my shoulder blades.

"Then you should learnt to fight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's a queen, OK? I absolutely adore Female North Italy. She is the embodiment of cool, especially since she's so much more stronger than her male counterpart whilst maintaining the wonderful friendliness!   
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Katarina Vargas, "Kat": Female South Italy  
> Thea Bondevik: Female Norway  
> Chiara Vargas: Female North Italy  
> \----------  
> 01\. Libertá e guerra is Italian. I believe it means "freedom and war", if I've translated correctly.


	11. Ultimatum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm running out of ideas for the beginning of these Author Notes. I usually try and talk about my life, but wayo! Nothing's happening in my dull existence. How about this. I saw two pheasants in the field outside my house today. Pheasants are funny things, because they have the ability to fly, but never bloody do. So, they'll run across roads which makes them easy targets; so, instead of flying away they panic and freeze in front of cars. And if they get spooked whilst cars pass by and they're on the side of the road, they just flap their wings instead of flying away. Weird things.

* * *

**"I'm sorry," Tony shrank back from me in the dinner queue.** "I probably should've warned you about Chiara. She's a lovely person, but when it comes to her grandpa, she's fiercely defensive."

"You can say that again," I grumbled.

I was peppered with bruises. After the initial knockdown, Chiara had insisted on rigorous training with the wooden poles. Apparently, my agility was lacking and my strength was misused. In Königsberg, running around had never been a priority and, as a woman, it had never been a requirement for me to practice using weaponry should a war arise. Carrying potato baskets had been the extent on my skills and raw strength meant little when there was no skill to apply to it.

"Gotta love her," Francis sighed, scrubbed clean from his incredibly long bath. "She really has put all of us in our place, at least once. She's a sweet kid, Chiara."

That was a part of her I'd only seen briefly. My experience with Chiara so far was a wooden pole repeatedly beating my body down to the ground.

"Did you improve at all?" Tony had the gall to ask.

No, was the answer. I had been useless with a weapon and I couldn't see myself improving any time soon. From the way she had spoken, Chiara had been training since a very young age. She was probably ten years my senior in combat experience and I didn't know if two days, now one, was enough to catch up with that.

"I'll take that as a negative," Francis glanced worriedly at me. "Don't worry, Julshen."

" _Julchen_ ," I said irritably. "Make 'ch' sound; like 'chair', or 'cheat'."

"There's no need to bite  _my_ head off," Francis rolled his eyes. " _You_ were the one who was so eager to join Ordinem. Surely you expected there to be a combative requirement?"

"I had no idea what I was walking into because neither of you exactly gave a presentation on it," I complained.

"It's a private organisation," Francis bristled. "If we went around yelling its rules and members around in public, we'd be putting a lot of people in danger. You might not know this, but-"

"Ordinem is a known resistance group," I finished and nodded. "I know. Chiara told me about King Alexander IV's assassination."

"Really?" Tony looked astonished. "She must really like you, then. It was ages before she told me anything about Ordinem's origins."

Francis rolled his eyes as we inched closer towards the cooks. "Don't let him inflate your head too much, Jul- _ch-_ ien. Antonio here is very close with both the Vargas sister; the fact itself that he was one to recommend you gives you a strong standing in Ordinem. Chiara values Tony greatly and Katarina..."

"Kat... Kat and I are quite similar," Tony swallowed. "Kindred spirits?"

"Whatever you say," Francis arched an eyebrow, before looking back at me. "My point is, Chiara trusts you. As a friend of both of you, I would be devastated if that trust were to be broken."

I opened my mouth to protest.

"But I know you won't," Francis smiled, turning his head away. "You're like an open book,  _mon cherie_. Very easy to read."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," I admitted. "What I don't understand is that, if Ordinem were able to assassinate King Alexander IV as a grown man, why didn't they finish the job later, whilst King Ivan VII was still a child?"

"Ordinem's sources informed them that Ivan, then the Crown Prince, would be in the carriage with Alexander on the day of the attack," Tony explained. "Some willing members went into the scene with gunpowder crates, may they rest in peace, which would ensure the death of the king and his son. As it happens, Ivan wasn't present, for reasons we'll never know. It wasn't a mole, or anything, since nobody revealed our plans, so I suspect it was a domestic thing that had influence that outcome."

"People sacrificed themselves for Ordinem's cause?" I blinked.

"Why wouldn't they?" Tony looked puzzled. "I would. Hands down, I would strap myself to the next gunpowder crate should we make another attack."

"I agree with you, Julchen, that I could never lay my life down for any cause," Francis leant his head back with a frown. "But put it from the perspective of other people. Some people have lost  _everything_. They value the future in general rather than their personal future. To someone like that, laying your life down would be natural."

"I see..." I didn't, but I wasn't about to argue.

"People are complicated," Tony smiled. "It's not that they don't value their lives, but perhaps they value the lives of  _others_ above their own. Anyway, Alexander IV was killed upon impact and the guards were prevented from the gunpowder reaching the carriage due to other members confronting them. Our leader at the time announced this was the work of Ordinem; he felt it was the right time to make our presence known to the world and I agree with him. From that day on, Ordinem became an organisation associated with the desire to the overthrow the Braginsky monarchy. Because of that, security tightened to new levels. Very few people have seen King Ivan VII in person and ceremonies are far fewer and far more guarded. Border checks are crazy and security has become so tight that some commerce systems have had to slow down to ensure the king's safety. The royals are afraid, because he's the only son King Alexander IV had. His death would mean the end of their dynasty, really."

"And this attack is supposed to ensure Ivan VII's death?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Francis bobbed his head, just as we reached the front of the queue and received our food- watery broth. "We discovered that King Ivan VII has been at several meetings at Paris and should be returning to Moscow in two days' time. Since we're already in Moscow, their guard should be low. Our numbers are high, so it's the prime moment to attack."

"You've been thrown into this very suddenly,  _gringo_ ," Tony said sympathetically as we took our seats. "Are you sure you want to go into the thick of things? It'll be dangerous, especially as you're not very trained in combat..."

"I have to be there," I insisted. "Opa would cry if I let others die for me."

"I understand," Tony beamed and begun tucking into his food.

"I'm sure Chiara will get you to a suitable level in no time," Francis assured me. "She'll at least bring you to a level where you can defend yourself, if not attack."

Whilst attack would be ideal, I wasn't naive. You couldn't just suddenly battle like a pro. It took time and patience and practice. As I ate my broth, I silently vowed that I would knock Chiara off her feet with the wooden poles tomorrow.

* * *

I hit the floor with a painful thud. It had passed midday and practice had started at eight. For four hours, I had been getting completely owned by Chiara, with no signs of evident improvement. Groaning, I dragged myself to my feet and readied my pole for more battering. To my surprise, she was already across the room, putting her pole back.

"We're done for the day?" I asked, puzzled, letting my guard down.

"I have a meeting with Kat," she smiled pleasantly and spun round, bouncing on her heels in a girlish manner. "Besides, this is the best opportunity for you to grab some lunch and have time to digest it, you get me?"

"I guess," I approached with rising caution, but she made no move to attack when I placed the pole back in its rightful place.

"You've made good progress, Julchen," Chiara said sadly, because we both knew it was a lie.

"Things are looking hopeful for tomorrow, then?" I tried.

She blew out a breath, half laugh, half sigh. "I'll see you later, unless something happens."

Slowly, Chiara wandered past me, hands clasped together. All I could do was watch her leave the room, leaving me to stand there in silence. There were noises; other members of Ordinem were sparring in practice for tomorrow's big event. The determined faces surrounding me constantly invited me to work harder. It was tough, though. I felt homesick. Lud would be far better suited for this kind of stuff compared to me; even  _Mütter_ would show more promise. For the entire day, Ordinem had watched me get knocked off of my feet. At this rate, I would be banned from joining the battle tomorrow, most likely accused of getting in the way.

"Hey," I turned and it was Francis. "Don't look so down."

"She's just too nice," I slumped and followed when he began leaving the room. "If she was mean to me, I'd have more motivation to hit her."

"That's what makes her so dangerous," he chuckled.

"Why were you loitering around the training room?" I asked. "I didn't see you picking up a wooden pike."

"I get a bit nervous before a battle," Francis explained with a smile. "My appetite goes, as does my will to fight. You know, I get so edgy. One mistake in a spar makes you worry and fret about your combat abilities until it's either too late or you survive the battle."

"I've never been in a battle before..." I said.

"No, I suppose you haven't," he pondered. "I... I was once part of a small organisation located at the heart of Paris, but it didn't last. They rarely do, which is what makes Ordinem so promising and special. And it wasn't  _really_ a battle, either, now that I think about it. Just some scuffles with some of the Slavic Guard. I'd say this was my first battle, too, so we're both fledglings."

"And what about Tony?" I asked.

He hummed, long and loud, eyes raised skywards. "Tony... has lived a very different life to us. Have you ever been to Latium before?"

I shook my head.

"No, of course you haven't," he rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. "You never left your hometown. I've only been to Latium once and I vowed never to go again."

"Really?"

"For starters, it gets too hot," he tugged at his shirt collar. "I was sweating through my clothes constantly whilst there, no matter what I wore. And the people are hard trained to survive. Although there's a lot of fertile land in Latium, there's also a lot of dry areas, where the poorer population live. In general, Rome is a fragment of what Latium truly is.  _Rome_ is beautiful and very rich as a result of being raised by the Province's wealth. But  _Rome_ doesn't reflect the majority of Latium. There's a lot of farmland, but also a lot of slums. Tony showed me the one time I went there; dark eyed people who looked very hungry. Pickpockets, gangs, roaming wild animals, theft, murder. It was a basket of crime. Starving populations due to food imports heading to the Province of Slavia. I can understand why Grandpa Vargas developed the desire to free his people when he grew up with such conditions in his very clearly childhood. And there's also shadows in Rome. If you look closely, you can see thin faces in the dark alleys, waiting for the opportunity to get some money for food, or to get food itself. Latium is very different to the other Provinces in that society huddled towards Rome rather than the entire Province. The wealth was concentrated there, due to commerce and the people have suffered as a result."

"Tony always looks so carefree," I murmured.

"Indeed, he does," Francis agreed. "But there's a lot more to him, believe me. He knows what he wants and what he's talking about. Tony's a fighter. It's in the Latin blood, so I think that's one reason why he bonded so well with Katarina and Chiara."

"They're all such vibrant characters," I remarked.

"Aren't they?" he smiled. "I don't think I've met more interesting people."

We had gathered our lunch at this point, more broth, and were settled down, eating when Tino approached the table with nervous, periwinkle blue eyes.

"I hate to interrupt you two, but Katarina wants to speak with Julchen," he wrung his wrists in worry.

"Now?" Francis seemed surprised as Tino nodded. " _Just_ Jules?"

"She never specified if others could accompany her," Tino grimaced with a shrug. "I'd assume she meant just Julchen. Play it safe, Francis, and just wait here."

Francis appealed to me with wide eyes. It would be fine. I hoped my gaze conveyed that to him as I rose and followed Tino from the cafeteria.

"I'm sorry about that," the Northern man sighed. "It's the worst time to call upon people, but it must be important if she picked lunchtime for this matter."

What could  _Katarina_ , Ordinem's  _leader_ , want with a newbie like me? My best guess was that this was another test, to prove my loyalty. I would do whatever asked, if that were the case. I was as loyal as anyone else here, especially due to my vendetta against the Royal Slavic Guard. Tino headed upstairs, with me at his heels and knocked softly at the door.

"Enter!" Katarina yelled from inside.

Tino pushed the door open. "Julchen's here."

And then he stood aside to let me walk past. I slowly entered the room, as if dazed. Here I was, made to present myself before Ordinem's leader for reasons still unknown. She was sprawled on the sofa, tendrils of dark hair spread out around her head and her green glower was focused instantly on me. Katarina was probably one of those people who could never really look happy. If she were to smile at me, I would question if she was feeling well. She straightened up slowly and gestured towards the sofa, where Chiara was already seated, having been speaking to her. Of course, Chiara had had a meeting with her. Was the aforementioned meeting with her sister something that had concerned me? Tino closed the door shut behind me as I awkwardly scooted across the room to take my given seat.

"Julchen," Katarina folded her arms.

"Katarina," I sat stiff and nervous. Chiara was tense beside me.

"How's your training been going?" the leader of Ordinem asked.

I chanced a glance at Chiara. She wouldn't look at me, but I could see, deep within her honey glazed eyes, that there was some kind of worry there. Whatever I said, my words would have to be chosen carefully. Was I in the middle of some sibling dispute? Would my word prove something that the two sisters may have been bickering about?

"I would say I've been working hard and that I'm learning gradually," I said.

"Really?" Katarina didn't look impressed. "That's not what Chiara said."

I whipped my head round to look at her. Still, Chiara wouldn't grace me with her attention, although the way her fingers pressed against her knees evidently told me she was worried about my opinion.

"She told me you keep making the same mistakes, and that you don't seem able to adapt to your surroundings," Katarina took a sip from one of the glasses of water rested on the table. "She told me you can't fight."

"I'm trying my best," I swallowed, feeling like my pride had been damaged.

"Chiara most definitely said your work ethic is impressive," Katarina shrugged, placing the glass back down with great care. "But 'giving your all' isn't going to be saving any lives, Julchen. I want talent in Ordinem and I feel you won't be providing that."

"You're expelling me?" I squinted.

"Not quite," Katarina pursed her lips and sent me a withering stare. "Although, personally, I believe the best source of action would be to send you back to the Province of Germania. Having you in Ordinem is risky. You're albino, so you stand out. If someone sees your face, they're more likely to remember you. Moreover, you can't fight. Compared to other members, you're weak in combat and could make mistakes on the field that would not only cost your own life, but also the lives of valuable members who pitch in to protect you."

"Francis and Tony," I said hollowly.

Her green eyes flashed. "Anyone. It's basic human instinct to step in and help a fellow."

"Then I don't understand," I leant back into the sofa with a scowl. "What's being done with me?"

She sat up straight and raised her chin. "Chiara had a lot of good input about you and she has faith in the decision of both Tony and Francis to introduce you to our ranks. Personally, I don't think you're intelligent enough to be a spy-"

"Kat..." Chiara warned.

"...but looks can be deceiving," Katarina finished. "I don't fully trust you, Julchen, and have no reason to do so."

"That's doesn't explain what'll happen to me," I said carefully. Was she going to have me disposed of?

"I don't trust you, but I trust Chiara with my life," Katarina closed her eyes. " _She_ trusts you and it's for that reason that I'm letting you stay in Ordinem, rather than tossing you back to the Province of Germania like I ought to. Some facts don't change, though: you can't fight and you won't reach the required skill level in the time you have. For that reason, you won't be on the field, but will remain at the designated base to provide ammunition and necessary medical care."

"A  _medic_?" I gawked. "You're making me a  _medic_?"

"Either take it or leave," Katarina hissed. "I'm only giving you this option for Chiara's sake, got it?"

A medic, or leave. Neither sounded inspiring. Opa was probably turning in his grave to see me acting like a messenger, passing on the goods. He would've wanted me to be a fighter. But leaving Ordinem was out of the question. Even a medic could make a difference.

"Take it," I said and shook hands with Katarina.

"I suggest you get a good night's sleep," she said. "We all need to be up early tomorrow."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle is upcoming! I'm excited for the next chapter, so I hope the rest of you are!  
> \----------  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Chiara Vargas: Female North Italy  
> Tino Vainamoinen: Finland  
> Katarina Vargas, "Kat": Female South Italy  
> \----------


	12. The Death of a Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers. I'm keeping my mouth shut. *sips tea*

* * *

**It _was_ an early start, just as Katarina had promised. ** I had been assigned to barracks, crammed into a large room with hundreds of other sleeping women. Bunk beds ensured twice the number could fit into the room, so it had gotten warm from the number of bodies occupying the space. The bells trilled out to wake us and other stilled forms stirred around me. Yawning and stretching, I was a pace behind everyone else as I struggled into the rough wool tunic and leggings all members of Ordinem- men and women alike- wore. I hauled on the provided riding boots, before storming out of the room alongside others. I was pulled along by the crowd, all the way to the training room where all members of Ordinem had assembled.

At the front, I could see Chiara standing to one side, dressed in light chainmail armour over her tunic. Her hair was drawn back into its usual ponytail, although she had made an effort to push any loose hairs behind her ears. She looked a fierce warrior, stronger than any other I had laid eyes on. But today, it was not Chiara who radiated the attention, but Katarina. She was like the stories of old, heroes who wore armour and ran off to rescue princesses. Her dark hair, usually like an untameable mane, had been pulled back into two tight plaits. The severe change only added to her ferocity. Green eyes blazing, she was like a dragon looking upon creatures of far less worth. This was what a woman looked like when she was serious, when she was determined to fight for what she valued. This was what a woman really looked like. I couldn't help but feel awed and captivated by her aura and stance alone.

Without a word, Katarina raised her blade, an actual sword, upwards, so that the flickering orange candlelight caught the reflective surface. The murmurs instantly stopped and Katarina, a Queen, looked upon her people.

"Today is the day the Braginsky monarchy ends," she declared. "Ordinem shall create a new world that will not centre around Slavia."

Roars of approval sounded out around me. For some reason, I felt nauseous, drowned by the sound.

"Gather in your assigned posts," Katarina lowered her sword. "I shall lead the frontline with the first division, with the second and third divisions following after. Archers will flank either side of the attack posts and those with the crossbow can accompany them at the front. Medics go last, to prevent damage hitting them and remain at the assigned base."

More shouts of joy as she strode through the crowd, Chiara following closely behind. The sword remained high, like a beacon leading sailors to the end. I watched in amazement as she passed by, obscured by taller men and women, the only visible part of her being her weapon. A large group began to follow- the first division I assumed. There I could see Tino and Matthias, one with his sword at his belt, the other slinging an axe over his shoulder. Also standing in the frontline were Francis and Tony.

"Wait!" I cried over the shouts, pushing past men and women. "Francis!"

They couldn't hear me past the others, but what if this was the last time I saw them? What if one of  _them_ died, or if  _I_ died?

"Francis!" I screeched, ducking past others, and saw him turn ever so slightly. "Tony!"

" _Mon cherie_?" Francis blinked surprised cornflower blue eyes, lashes starkly black against his pale skin each time he closed them.

"I don't know what's going to happen," I confessed, feeling breathless by the momentum.

"None of us know what's-"

"Listen," I rushed out. "I wanted to thank the both of you. We might not see each other again after this, so...  _thank you_."

Francis laughed. "For what?"

"For bringing me here," I hurried on. "For getting me out of Königsberg when I needed to most."

" _Gringo_ , we gotta go," Tony glanced around, brows furrowed. "The second division is moving out and we don't want to lose the first division. Kat would flip if we weren't organised."

"Here, take this," Francis took the black ribbon from his hair and offered it to me.

"What?" I gawked, taking the thread.

"Your hair is long like Katarina's," he said. "Really, it should be braid back, but we don't have time for that. Tie it back. Trust me, it'll be helpful."

"This isn't how I wanted-"

Julshen,  _mon cherie_ , we'll see you later," Francis smiled, moving away.

"-to say bye," I sighed, but he was already lifting his hand and leaving.

The second division swallowed them up in the crowds. Was that my last conversation with either Francis or Tony? My heart felt heavy, and I was shouldered past. All I could do was stand as the second division disappeared, then the third, and then the archers.

"Hey, you're a medic, right?" someone touched my shoulder.

I looked and saw an unfamiliar face. The world suddenly seemed much bigger now than I was no longer with people I knew. I took in this stranger's face, before stuffing the ribbon into my medic's pouch and following the medical team through the corridors. We took a different exit out of the side of the building, a dug-out slope that allowed more than one person to leave at a time. From the back, Katarina and her sword weren't visible. From the back, I wasn't near anyone I cared about, so I couldn't defend those I did. It was powerless being at the back. I absolutely hated it. The sun was new and crisp and I squinted against it, unused to this amount of light, even just after two days. The air was cold and sharp in my nose and throat. This was it. This was probably the last day I would be alive.

It was a blur after that. The three divisions split up and the archers disappeared to get into the most strategic sniping positions. The medical team surged along, almost clumsily, to a small batch of tents where they laid out sheets on the ground and medical tools on desks. I had never healed anyone before. How was being a medic  _easier_ than fighting on a battlefield?

"Just keep things clean," the head medic told me, before rushing off to speak to others.

My duty, then, was to wash up after the wounded. It was definitely something that kept me on my feet. Nobody was badly injured at first, but then the groans of pain slowly filled the tent as more people were brought in or dragged themselves in. There was a smell of iron in the air. I wanted to vomit, but told myself not to. That wouldn't help anyone. I washed scalpels, cleaned bandages, turned sheets over.

"We need assistance!" one of the medics cried from the other side of the tent.

I turned to see a man thrashing against those holding him down. Casting the sheets I was holding to one side, I rushed forwards and crouched beside him. What could I do? He had a terrible wound in his chest and the blood had spread across his torso. Planting my hands on his shoulders, his terrified eyes flew upon to stare right up at me. I would always remember his eyes, purely because of how glassy they would go once he departed. But in that moment, they had been a chocolate brown, traumatised by what was happening around him. They had widened as much as possible and were trained solely on me. There was sweat and tears on his dirtied skin and so much blood pumping from the wound in his chest.

"Crossbow," the word was flung around, but it echoed in my head as more indistinct murmurs filled the tent. The man was staring at me with those terrified eyes.

Someone was ripping at his clothes, the soaked fabric tearing like paper when they resorted to using a knife. Blood everywhere. It was pumping from the wound, spilling over soiled skin. He gurgled something, as someone talked about 'vitals'. I held him down with all of my might as he watched me, choking on his own blood. I felt frozen, as if my heart was no longer capable of pumping warm, fresh blood through my body. There was his life, seeping out of his chest. Blood smelled terrible. The scent clogged your nose, mouth, throat and eyes. I could feel them watering and had to keep telling myself to breathe evenly and not panic. A man was dying in front of me, though. It was difficult to stay calm.

He coughed and the blood spattered his lips. "Who-"

I leant my head closer to catch what he was saying and it was in that moment that the man died. His eyes darkened, glassing over, and I could tell he wasn't seeing me anymore. The muscles in his body slacked and he went completely still. The person stitching at his chest just leant back on his heels and shook his head. The worst part was how they lifted his body and discarded him to one side, where myself and some other medics were told to bundle him into his dirtied sheet. I was on autopilot, wrapping him up whilst hearing my heart in my throat. What if Francis and Tony were brought into the medical tent like that? What would be  _their_ last words, if they weren't already dead out there? Looking out across the disaster, I could hear screams of agony in the distance and shouts of pure anger.

"Hey," the medic snapped his fingers in my face. "Back to work."

Hurriedly, I set about to the grunt work once more and dashed off to wash the rest of the sheets. I dumped them in the well water I'd been collecting and squeezed as much of the dirt and blood from them as I could. I was busy wringing out and hanging up the last sheet when I heard screams from nearby. Opening my personal medic's pouch, I grabbed the scalpel and neared the tent to see it in chaos. Medics were being slaughtered left, right and centre, the Royal Slavic Guard swinging their swords furiously. A little scalpel wouldn't help me in this situation. All the experienced medics were now dead and the wounded finished off like leftovers.

Pushing towards the fray, I found myself tripping over corpses. There was blood on the streets and groans from those who had yet to die. I slipped on more blood, the pain shooting through my knees and spotted a little boy huddled in the doorway of his house. A dead woman lay near his feet and his blue eyes were filled with terror. Scrambling towards him, he cowered as I neared.

"You need to get inside," I tried opening the door to his house.

"I don't live there," he said, terrified, just as some frightened civilian told me to go away.

The house had shut a little boy out. Gritting my teeth in pure fury, I drove the scalpel into the lock, splintering it. There were shouts of terror inside and even the little boy looked at me in alarm. Again, I drove the little blade into the door, but I didn't do much. Turned, I saw a corpse and took his longsword. The little boy began to cry as I lifted the weapon and brought it down, slicing mercilessly through the wooden latch. With a furious kick, the door flew open to reveal a family huddled as far as possible, eyes wide and bodies shaking. The husband reached for the nearest weapon, a cleaver.

"A monster," the wife whispered.

"You would lock a child out on the streets?" I pushed the door open wide, nudging the boy into the house's boundaries. "Take him and look after him, got it? And if you don't, I'll kill all of you."

I was met with silence as I turned around to look at the dangers beyond. Pulling Francis' ribbon from the pouch, I closed the door behind me, back in the chaos and bound my hair up into a high ponytail. I had always been bad at braids, but what use was a braid in a war? Storming forwards, I wondered where Francis and Tony were in this mess. My eyes scanned the bodies, seeing no one familiar. There were members of Ordinem and the RSG littered here and there, all of them now the same.

What was the point of this? Blood and massacre would lead to nothing, not really. You could throw down on tyrant and another would always raise their head. I hurried down more streets, with others running past. The odd person demanded medical attention, for which I would clumsily bandage them, whilst explaining the medic's tent had been attacked. There was blood on my hands, but I hadn't killed anyone. This attack had been so destructive to Moscow. The civilians were suffering in the process. How could Ordinem truly care about freedom when they didn't take into the account of the lives of the ordinary men and women?

"Please," someone tugged at my boot. "Please help."

I looked down to see another wounded man. Crouching beside him, I pushed away his chainmail and clothes, locating the wound. It was a slice, not a stab, and it was along his waist, near the ribs. He was losing blood, but there was a chance I could save him. Tearing open the medical pouch, I pulled out a small phial of a Slavic drink that could also be used to distill wounds- the name of it slipped my mind. I soaked a cotton strip and pressed it to his wounds- the name of it slipped my mind. I soaked a cotton strip and pressed it to his wound. The man hissed, tensing, but remained on the spot. Luckily, he wasn't making this difficult for me. Cleaning the wound to the best of my abilities, I pulled out my thread.

"Bite this," I gave him my longsword hilt and he did as I said, almost laughing from the delirium.

I had done sewing at Königsberg. I wasn't brilliant at it, but I was better at sewing than other people. Threading the needle though, I swiftly stitched up the wound, ignoring his muffled yells of pain. I finished the job proudly and saw his sweating face. I hoped he would survive this, just as a matter of my personal pride. As I leant back, I noticed the Slavic emblem on his chainmail. If I had been a true member of Ordinem, I would've driven scalpel through his throat, but in that moment, I realised I was just a young woman who wanted vengeance for her grandfather. This man hadn't been there the day our family had been attacked and he had no idea who I was. I had nothing against him and seeing him there, on the ground, wounded and defenceless, didn't satisfy me in the slightest. Instead, I gave him a sleeping drought and hoped he would make it out of this one alive.

I heard the crunch of a boot on bodies and felt every muscle in my body still. Of course, this was still a battlefield and I was, to some extent, a member of Ordinem. It was only logical that a member of the RSG would attack me.

Looking up, I was met with a very tall young man with ash blonde hair and wide violet eyes. He was handsome, probably married and a civilian at that. He was wearing a torn white shirt with ripped, muddied breeches and riding boots. Unlike the little boy, he had had the sense to grab a weapon, a crossbow held in his arms, but not pointed at me. What a waste it would be to see someone die so young, when he had done nothing to instigate this attack on his hometown. I was seeing myself in him now, frightened and uncertain of what to do. His family were probably dead, for all I knew, attacked by an unknown band of armed individuals. What difference was there between myself and this resident of Moscow?

"You need to get out of here," I told him, leaping to my feet, checking to see if he had any-

There was a sharp pain in my side. The breath was knocked out of my lungs and I staggered forwards, almost tripping on the man I had just healed. The civilian was quick to act, raising the crossbow and firing, the shout of someone dying in the distance. With sweaty hands, I checked to see what was wrong with me, only to see an arrow had pierced me from behind. I was in so much pain and could hear the agonised cry leaving my lips. There was blood spilling down my side, but this time, it was  _my_ blood.

I pulled the arrow out, hoping to end the pain. More blood gushed out, just as the civilian dropped to my side and pressed his hand to the wound.

"It hurts," I told him tearfully.

His eyebrows rose as he rummaged through my medic battle and pulled all the bandaging out. Swiftly, he wrapped it around my waist, cramming part of it in the wound to lessen the bleeding. I was feeling to faint and my head was like lead. It lolled around on my shoulders, useless and dizzy. The civilian grabbed my chin, his lips moving and forming shapes and words, but none of it would reach my ears. I felt so weak and felt myself fall forwards, right on the man I had just healed moments ago.

Everything went black. I couldn't see anything and noise suddenly became blurred and indistinct. Was this what it was like to die? To feel cold all over and to lose sense of what was happening around me? To feel cold all over and to lose sense of what was happening around me? This must've been what dying was. I felt the smallest of smiles ghost my lips. I hoped Francis and Tony wouldn't spend too long sifting through the crowds in the aftermath to find me. They'd only be disappointed. Or, perhaps, I was joining them on the other side? Maybe that's what Francis meant when he'd promised to see me later?

I smiled and let myself die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, author. You just killed the main character. Uh, yeah. I might have. Read on.  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Chiara Vargas: Female North Italy  
> Katarina Vargas, "Kat": Female South Italy  
> Tino Väinämöinen: Finland  
> Matthias Køhler: Denmark  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> \----------


	13. The Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, despite the main character's death, there's another chapter! I suppose you've already clocked on that the main character didn't die. Kudos to you.
> 
> I write on FanFiction.net, too, and one thing I really like about it is the review feature. I've always been one who enjoys talking to my readers so getting comments is always a big deal for me. I think, that's why, I might try and convince people to leave more comments! I always try to reply, so feel free to say something about anything!

* * *

**Apparently, I was alive, because I could feel air moving through my lungs and soft sheets encasing my body.** I wriggled, feeling a pain in my side and dared to open my eyes. I squinted against the morning light filtering in through the windows of a room I had never seen before. There were five beds, all white and plush, like nothing I'd seen before. I was sitting on a mattress I could sink into and it didn't feel like it had been filled with straw. The pillows were soft and feathery, like a dream. The walls were painted white with beautiful wood panelling and the floors were made of polished and swept wood. It was so clean in this room and I could smell something both sweet and bitter in the air. Whatever this place was, I wouldn't have been surprised if it were heaven. However, there was still a pain in my side, so I knew I couldn't be dead.

An attempt to sit up had me hissing in pain, but I pulled through it. Peering at my side, I could see it was covered in bandaging. There was no sight of blood. Someone experienced with medicine had healed me. Had the civilian escaped, too? I couldn't see him here. In fact,  _where_ was I, because this wasn't the kind of place where Ordinem would send the wounded.

"You're awake."

I jumped and saw someone had just entered the room. He was a short man, slender, too. He had unusually dark hair, so at first, I assumed he was from Latium. However, his skin had a different tone and, when he neared the side of my bed, I could see his features held a different shape to anyone from Latium. In fact, he looked different to anyone else I had ever laid eyes on. His eyes were a bright, honey brown, mesmerising to look at and somewhat soothing despite my current position. He peered closely into my eyes, before opening my mouth to take a look and then searching my ears for something unseen. Letting my head fall back, he lifted my nightdress to look at the bandaging, ignoring how I tried to squirm away.

"Try not to move," he told me. "Otherwise, you'll reopen the wound, aru."

Swallowing, I watched as he stepped back to assess me.

"Other than that, I think you'll make a full recovery," he seemingly tried to smile, but it was more like an unpracticed grimace. "Oh, some of your belongings had to be thrown out due to a lack of hygiene, but some of them we managed to keep."

He gestured and I looked at a bedside table. There lay the empty phials and Francis' ribbon. Reaching out for the black silk, I tied it around my wrist before cautiously looking at the strange man.

"Who are you?" I asked. I'd never seen him before, so was he a member of Ordinem?

"Dr Wang," he replied almost robotically. "If I could also take your name, Ma'am? It's best if I record  who enters this facility and for what purposes."

"Julchen," I said, uncertain of whether revealing my identity was smart or not.

"Julchen..." he waved an expectant hand.

"Julchen Beilschmidt," I swallowed.

"That's not a Slavic name," he lowered the clipboard to assess me. "Germanic, I would say. Are you from the Province of Germania?"

Slowly, I nodded.

"You can hear it in the accent, too," Dr Wang wrote it down. "You took an arrow hit to the side, Miss Beilschmidt. That  _wouldn't_ have been a problem for me, aru, but you decided it would be a good idea to pull the arrow out, thus allowing blood flow. You were extremely weak when you were brought in and I feared you wouldn't make it, considering I had had strict orders to keep you alive."

I squinted. Orders? Since when were doctors ordered to save lives? It was just their job, a duty; not an order.

"Anyway, I think you'll be fine," Dr Wang shook his head. "I've cleaned and sealed the wound and we'll have you fed and nourish in no time. You're heavily underweight and I'm guessing a starchy diet lacking in proteins."

"Potatoes," I said.

"Starchy," he nodded emphatically. "Honestly, Germanic peasants eat nothing but those damned potatoes. I've never understood the allure of them, aru."

"You can do a lot with them?" I suggested.

He gave me a pointed look. "Bread can provide just as much and can save land to grow vegetables more worthy of the immune system, aru."

"Bread takes longer to make," I argued. "Potatoes taste good."

"I had a feeling this would be your method of argument, aru," the doctor shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Your lunch is on the way and it's not potatoes, aru."

"Lunch?" I pulled my brows together.

"Yes," Dr Wang sighed. "He's been insisting having food brought to you- three meals a day- in the off chance that you'd wake up. Your body has been weak for the past two days, aru. It was such a waste of food."

"Huh?" I frowned.

A strange expression passed over the doctor's face. "Wait- you  _do_ know where you are, don't you?"

I stared at him, puzzled.

"And  _who_ brought you here?" he prompted, just as someone stepped into the room, leading a chef carrying a tray of soup, butter and bread.

Instantly, I recognised the young man, the civilian, from the battlefield. He was much cleaner, dressed in a clean pressed white shirt and a dark plum waistcoat. A cravat was tucked into the decorative clothing and he wore a fresh pair of riding leggings and boots. In fact, he looked far wealthier than the average Moscow citizen. I felt my brows furrowed as he neared, a joyous smile on his face. How could someone I barely knew look so elated to see me? How kind of him, to have me healed by a professional doctor and accommodate me in such a clean place. I hadn't been surrounded by so much wealth since being at Roderich's house.

"Thank goodness you're awake," he lowered himself into the chair beside me, soft Slavic accent smooth to my ears. "You were passing out a lot, da?"

I glanced between the two men, confused as to what exactly was happening. The doctor was rooted to the spot, tense and stiff, whilst the other man ordered the chef to buttered my bread. This didn't seem like a normal situation. In fact, this was the opposite of a normal situation. Something was amiss and I wasn't quite picking up on the facts. The chef bowed and fled the room.

"Who is she?" the young man clasped my nearest hand, staring me in the eyes.

"She states her name is Julchen Beilschmidt," the doctor lowered his head in respect. "She comes from the Province of Germania. I can confirm that she is on the full road to recovery."

"Of course, she is," the young man smiled at me. "Someone like this wouldn't just die, Dr Wang."

"Of course not," the doctor cast the smallest of glances at me, before turning his attention back to the Slavic young man. "I would suggest she not move around for a few days. The wound, although healing, is still very delicate right now and there is still a big risk of reopening it, which would make it viable to infections, aru."

"Yes, yes," the young man waved a dismissive hand, before looking back at me. "How are you feeling?"

"Um... better?" I said cautiously and slowly.

"All the way from the Province of Germania," the young man breathed. "Such a distance to suddenly turn up at Moscow and such terrible luck to be present on the day of an attack. My deepest apologies."

Why was he apologising? I kept glancing between the young man and the doctor.

"You must be very confused, right now," the young man said. "Allow me to explain. You were shot with an arrow from one of those Ordinem scum. You may not have heard of them, coming from the Province of Germania. They are vile beings bent on disturbing the order between the Provinces. They have no value or respect for the lives of the people and will do anything possible to get their way. That is, an anarchy founded upon the destruction of the monarchy. Truly vile."

I should've been angry, since Francis and Tony were part of Ordinem. Instead, I was just confused.

"Anyway, you were badly wounded after pulling the arrow from your body," he gestured. "I had to get you out of there as soon as possible, but I couldn't find any medics. I had to pass you on to the RSG; I knew they would take care of you, da?"

The RSG must've not known about me being a member of Ordinem. Did that mean... I was in the palace? I chanced a glance at Dr Wang, who offered no response with his facial features. So much for getting an idea of my surroundings from  _him_.

"It's been a couple of days since the attack, but-"

" _Two days_?" I blurted out and saw irritation flash across his features.

Still, two days? After such a long time, would Francis and Tony still be alive? Were they OK? Were they looking for me?

"Yes," Dr Wang input carefully. "Two days, Miss Beilschmidt. Your wound had made you quite feverish."

"Indeed, it did," the young man's pursed expression faded back into a kind smile. "I really was worried, da? You looked very ill and my grandfather died of a fever of some kind."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

"Well, as you know, it happened a long time ago" he shrugged, nonchalant. "Unless, of course, you weren't born? I was only four, so I barely remember the moment myself."

"Of course," I bobbed my head up and down.

"Anyway, you were brought here and received immediate medical attention from Dr Wang," the young man explained. "I've been visiting you alongside your meals, but you had never showed any sign of waking up. I was worried I wouldn't get the chance to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"But of course," his eyes widened. "I would've died if it weren't for you."

"I... saved you?"

He nodded emphatically. "After the carriage was attacked, I was separated from the Royal Guard and had to fend for myself. I barely made it out of that alive, until I found a crossbow on a corpse on a corpse that was still loaded with ammo. I found you some time afterwards, tending to the body of one of my guards. I admit, I was stunned that there was still a civilian in the midst of the attack and that you had stayed behind to heal someone you can't have known- unless you did know him?"

My shoulders and heart felt heavy. Cold and numb, I shook my head.

"Never mind, then," the young man shrugged. "He lived, too, by the way, but was up and moving again just yesterday. He wanted you to know that he owes you his life."

"I..." was speechless.

"It's all very overwhelming, isn't it?" he smiled. "To have found out you've saved such an important life, da? Anyway, as I was distracted by you, a member of that Ordinem scum had taken sight of me and would've ended my life had you not stood up. It hit your waist, you see, so would've been aimed for my stomach, most likely ending my life. But you stood up to tell me to run ad took the hit for me. I understand that probably wasn't intentional, but you see where my gratitude is coming from, da?"

"I saved you?" I needed it clear, set in stone.

"Absolutely," he squeezed my hand between his. "I really would've died had you not intervened. Julchen... you truly are a miracle."

" _I_ saved  _you_?" I repeated coldly.

"Yes," he huffed impatiently. "I assure you that you and your family will be rewarded greatly for your pain and efforts. In the meantime, I implore that you stay at the palace longer whilst you heal and also so I may repay my thanks to you in full."

I gawked at him like a fish.

"In fact, make that an order," he leant back with a smile, clapping his hands together gleefully. "You're not allowed to leave the palace until I have provided you with my fullest gratitude. At the end of this, you should expect to receive a title and lands."

"I saved you?" I wheezed.

He glowered at the doctor. "Why is she repeating the same phrase?"

"Your Majesty, I believe she is confused and overwhelmed, aru," Dr Wang bowed. "She has just woken up having experienced a traumatising event. Not to mention being bestowed by your presence. Not many peasants would count themselves so lucky as to-"

"Don't call her a peasant," the not-civilian said.

"My deepest apologies, Your Majesty," the doctor bowed hesitantly.

"She may as well take my place as king," he snorted. "Without her, I'd be dead, da?"

"As you say, Your Majesty," Dr Wang said.

"You were saying?" the  _King_ prompted.

"I saved the king," I wheezed, knowing Francis and Tony and Katarina and Chiara and Opa would never forgive me.

"Your presence must be overwhelming her, is what I mean, aru," Dr Wang continued, ignoring me magnificently. "I think it would be best to leave her be and let her adapt to her surroundings, aru."

"A shame," the young  _king_ looked at me sympathetically. "I had hoped we could speak more upon our meeting, but if you must heal, you must heal, Julchen."

As if possessed by a greater force, he reached out and took a strand of white hair between his fingers. He carefully threaded the colour along his hand, before letting it drift back down.

"As a quick, last note, I must inform you that I have cancelled the search for people such as yourself, Julchen," the  _king_ told me. "It seems I was prejudiced and mistaken. I apologise for any inconveniences you may have had the face as a result of my warrant."

All I could do was stare in horror.

"We shall speak later, da?" he smiled and the words eerily ghosted Francis'. "Perhaps you will be more talkative at dinner."

He rose from his seat and walked proudly from the room. I continued to sit there, numb and unfeeling, as the door closed softly behind him. I, Julchen Beilschmidt, had saved King Ivan VII from probably death, the very same man I had vowed to kill on behalf of my grandfather. Instead, I had  _saved_ him. I lifted both hands to my mouth, aghast by how the situation had turned out.

"From the Province of Germania, you said?" Dr Wang was looking at his clipboard wight a tight frown, before returning his soothing gaze back to me. "I  _do_ wonder what  _highlight_ of Moscow brought you here, Miss Beilschmidt, I really do."

I watched as he set the clipboard down beside me, mouth dry, unable to utter a word.

"For your sake, I hope it was a tourist trip," he said coolly, before tapping my food tray. "Eat up, aru."

Stunned, I watched Dr Wang leave the room without another word. Was he off to tell the king I was a member of Ordinem? I leant back into the pillow and sheets, just as the door opened to reveal a small girl. She had shoulder length blonde hair and turquoise eyes of a mesmerising greenish blue colour. She wore a plain grey dress, bound tightly at the waist and a bonnet. She was carrying some interesting fabrics in her hands, as she neared the bed and laid them on the other bedside table.

"Hello?" I asked and she jumped at having been spoken to.

"I-I'm so sorry, my lady," she bowed. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," I said. "Who are you?"

"Oh, my apologies," she swallowed. "My name is Krista Galante. I've been assigned as your handmaid."

"My  _handmaid_?" I sneered. "I don't need a handmaid."

A crestfallen expression appeared in her face. Suddenly, I pitied this girl more than anyone I'd ever known. She looked downtrodden to have me reject her very role in the palace.

"Wait, a handmaid is fine," I tried a smile, but it felt awkward. "Listen, um..."

"Krista."

"Krista!" I nodded enthusiastically. "As my handmaid, that makes you like an assistant to me, right?"

"You make it sound so grandiose," the girl blushed, but she looked pleased with herself.

"Fabulous," I rubbed my hands together. "In that case, can I call you Kris?"

"Kris?" the girl looked dumbfounded.

"Formalities have never suited me," I shrugged, then hissed in pain, remembering my wound.

"Careful, my lady," Kris looked worried. "Shall I fetch Dr Wang?"

"Absolutely not," I grimaced. "I'm fine. And never call me that again."

"Pardon, my lady?" the girl looked terrified.

" _That_ ," I said pointedly. "The whole 'my lady' business is just going to grate on me, I can tell. Julchen or Jules from now on, if you please."

"That's not very professional, my la-" she clamped her mouth shut at my glower. "Lady Julchen."

"Good enough," I breathed out a sigh. "Now, Kris, as my handmaid, you'll be guiding me through this, got it?"

"Through what?" she looked puzzled.

"Everything that happens in this palace," I said. "As in, anything I ask."

"Lady Julchen... what is it that's bothering you?" she asked.

"I need to know more about Moscow in general," I said awkwardly. "As a city. The customs, the people, the places. I'm a little confused right now and could use a little, um...  _jog_ to the memory."

"I see," Kris' brows furrowed. "So, you want me to tell you about the city you're visiting?"

She didn't trust me.

"If I'm perfectly honest, the reason I came to Moscow was to personally complain about the, um...  _now cancelled_ warrant against albinos," I lied. "But His Majesty is so enthralled with... being saved, that I feel it would be cruel to turn that on him. Do you understand?"

"My goodness, I do," her eyes widened as she took the king's seat beside me. "What do you need to know?"

"Well, for starters," I smiled, liking this whole handmaid arrangement. "Do they like potatoes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll let you all sit with Julchen's revelation, aha.  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Yao Wang: China  
> Ivan Braginsky, "Vanya": Russia  
> Krista Galante, "Kris": Female Latvia  
> \----------


	14. King of the Union

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julchen is in the palace! Except... it's not quite the prison as one might expect for an Ordinem member...

* * *

**It was two weeks before I was granted my freedom from the dreaded infirmary.** As promised, the King visited for dinner each day, although he himself never ate. It was always to bring me light food- bread, butter and soup- whilst I recovered. Dr Wang had been taking care of my wounds, ensure the stitches were cleaned and the bandages sufficient. The doctor seemed almost relieved to let me go. Ever since I had learnt who I had saved, Dr Wang had been strangely curt with me. Did he know I was, or had been, a member of Ordinem?

On the second week, Krista entered the infirmary and pulled the curtains around the bed. She was carrying a bundle of clothes which didn't belong to me.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, when she noticed my funny expression.

"Are those for me?" I asked.

"Indeed, Lady Julchen," it had become a name she had developed for me alone. Krista had been raised to be overly polite. "Have you been practicing walking around?"

I had. Pushing the covers back, I pulled myself to my feet. Standing had been such a liberation and the wound had long since healed. Without any warning, Krista lifted my night gown over my held. Yelping in surprise, I struggled against her, but Krista had the element of surprise. The night gown fell to the floor and I wrapped one arm around my chest, the other flying down to shield myself from view.

"I'm not sure what you're making such a fuss about," Krista tutted. "This is my job. Haven't you ever been dressed before?"

"No," I bleated.

"Well, you'd better get used to it," Krista arched her eyebrows. "Only poor girls dress themselves and whilst you're staying in the Winter Palace, you most certainly aren't 'poor'."

"I can dress myself," I said sullenly.

"With a statement like that, you clearly haven't worn upperclass clothes before," Krista lifted something soft and white, pulling it over my head.

It was a basic shift dress, something I was used to wearing. The stockings she handed me, on the other hand, were far different to what I was used to. In Königsberg, it was always dark, woollen stockings, but these were of delicate, white lace. I put those on myself and stepped into a pair of pearly pink shoes, whilst Krista busied herself gathering the next item of clothing. I had never worn heels before and I could feel the pinch of them as I tried to balance. When I turned around, the handmaid was lifting my leg to fit on a heavy, cream petticoat. The pleasant linen was light in temperature, even though its make meant it had many layers of fabric. It was the most beautiful petticoat I'd ever had the fortune to wear. Most of mine had been grey or brown. These had an embroidered pattern, something between swirls and flowers. Next, Krista slipped a pink corset with white patterns over my head. These had always been irritating, lightly lacing it up at the back. When I had been small, Mütter had done that. Now, Krista was pulling at each lace, preparing to adjust it to fit me. Just when I thought she had laced it up, she yanked on the back strings. The air shot from my lungs, with an ungraceful  _oof_ accompanying it. Rasping, I strained as Krista bound me in the impossibly tight corset. Although I usually wore it far looser, this was thankfully the end of my dressing session, a gruelling process that had taken up to forty-five minutes.

Stiffly turning, Krista began wrapping something else around my waist.

"What is this?" I demanded.

"The panniers, Lady Julchen," Krista explained with a knowing smile. "They accentuate the shape of your waist and hips, particularly when combined with the corset. They might rub on the first few wears, but it's something you'll find you get used to."

"They're stiff," I groaned. "What are they made of?"

"Whalebone, Lady Julchen," Krista said. "A rarity His Majesty has bestowed on you. Most panniers are made of cane."

She produced from her pile a strange little tie. She wrapped that over the panniers. They had two pouches, which intrigued me.

"These are you pockets, Lady Julchen," Krista said fondly. "You can keep a lot of interesting knickknacks inside, such as your fan."

"Could I fit snacks in there?" I asked. "Like apples, or bread rolls?"

"Don't be silly, Lady Julchen," the handmaid said. "You wouldn't  _ever_ keep food in your pockets."

She heaved on a second petticoat. This had the same colours as the corset, pink and white, with ruffles falling down to the ground. It was a magnificent piece that nobody such as myself should've been wearing. It was twice as heavy as the previous one, with extra fabrics.

"There are slits here, so that you can still use your pockets," she demonstrated to me and produced what appeared to be a tiny, white lace shawl. "This is the fichu. Just to keep you a little warmer."

I felt boiling, so didn't know why I needed  _another_ layer. Regardless, she draped a pink gown over my shoulders, with flamboyant white ruffles on the sleeves. It must've been an hour and a half by the time she had finished dressing me entirely. I felt wooden and could barely move.

"If you may take a seat, Lady Julchen," Krista gestured. "I shall do your hair and makeup now."

Frowning, I did as told and she set about brushing my hair. She was gentle, binding the strands upwards so that not a single scrap of hair fell out of place. She pinned my fringe back. From a small jar of red, she dipped a paintbrush inside and touched it to my mouth.

I jerked back. " _Now_ what are you doing?"

"Your makeup," she laughed. "You're already very pale, so there wasn't need to make your complexion lighter. You'll need a  _little_ bit of colour in your cheeks, though."

I opened my mouth to speak when she started powdering my face with a light colour. Krista then switched to the pleasant rouge colour, tapping at my cheeks. Leaning back, she smiled at me. Although I felt cakes into cosmetics, I managed to offer one back. Carefully, she draped a silver necklace over my shoulders, before lifting to pieces of gleaming jewellery near my ears.

"Oh my," she remarked. "You haven't got your ears pierced."

"Is that a bad thing?" I worried.

"Not at all," she smiled, lowering the accessories. "A ring will do just as nicely."

I made no comment as she slipped a nicely crafted silver ring onto my right hand.

"The king has requested you eat meals with him whilst you remain here as an honorary guest," Krista bused herself with pulling the curtains back.

"So, no more eating bread and soup here?" I joked.

"King Ivan VII will be eating breakfast shortly, so it's important that I get you to the dining hall as soon as possible," the handmaid nodded, guiding me away from the infirmary.

For some reason, I felt nervous. Maybe it was because I was, technically, lying to the king of the known world about my origins? If he were to discover the truth, then I would be in a lot of trouble. I followed Krista through the palace, until we reached the dining room. If there had been butterflies in my stomach beforehand, there was now a ferocious pounding in my chest. It didn't help that the corset was suffocating me. Krista opened the door to reveal a table that was set, with an array of foods arranged before me. There was a large pot of tea, fruit cake, buttery pound cake, bread rolls, toast and scones accompanied with jam and clotted cream. This was far different to the bread roll and butter I was granted each morning back at home, or the broth that Ordinem had enjoyed.

And at the end of the table, King Ivan VII was seated.

His entire countenance lit up at the sight of me and he even rose from his seat. He was wearing a pleasantly clean pressed white shirt and matching cravat. His breeches were clean and black in colour and his waistcoat form fitting and gold in colour. All of his buttons had been drawn up and a plum coloured frock coat that brought out the violet colour of his eyes. His stockings were pulled up to the knee and his shoes polished to perfection. Krista bowed and silently left the room as he moved forwards, crossing the room, shoes tapping gently with each footstep. My first instinct was to run, but I had to remind myself to act normal.

The king didn't. Personal space boundaries evidently meant nothing to him. He cupped my face in his hands and marvelled at me.

"You look so different, so  _alive_ ," he breathed, as he took one of my hands and bent his head to press warm lips against my skin. "You're very beautiful, Julchen."

There was sincerity in his tone. I couldn't help but flush and withdraw my hand. There were a lot of words of men had used for me, but 'beautiful' was not one of them. Everything about these past two weeks were confusing me. If withdrawing my hand had embarrassed him, he didn't show it, instead of guiding me to take the seat beside his, next to the head of the table. In just under three weeks, I had gone from living in near poverty, digging up potatoes in the rural Königsberg countryside, to dining beside none other than the king. It certainly felt surreal.

"Help yourself," he insisted. "You must be starving, da?"

Admittedly, I  _was_ hungry. The food in the infirmary had been pleasant enough, but the quantities had always been on the small side. With all these new foods presented before me, I couldn't help but feel my mouth water.

"Help myself?" I asked, wondering if this was a trick, if it was really OK for me to eat as I pleased.

"Absolutely," his eyes widened in surprise. "I would never want my guests to go hungry."

Nodding, I took that as my cue to gorge myself. There was  _so much food_. Standing, I reached across the table and grabbed three slices of toast. Lathering them with an inch of butter each, one by one, I crammed the content in my face, crunching away and taking more bites before the previous ones had been swallowed. I promptly poured a pot of tea- kept it black, because milk was a luxury- and knocked it back in one go, just to soothe my dry throat. Next came the fruit cake. I broke a hunk off and indulged in the sweetness of such a fine bake. Mütter had made fruit pies before, but somehow, those didn't compare to the rich goodness provided in the Winter Palace. Fruit cake demolished, I picked on the bread rolls next, decorating them with butter and jam and consumed them: one, two, three. The pound cake was delicious, its doughnut shape broken by my wandering hands and dumped unceremoniously on my plate, only to be experimentally dolloped with cream and jam. There was no need for forks in my world; I greedily inhaled the slice of pound cake I had selected. I had never had a scone before, but now was the time to try them. Enclosing the neat pastry in my hands, I cracked it in two, before shovelling one half in my mouth. It had a strange taste, yet was somehow alluring. It was even better dipped in jam and cream and once I'd had one, I couldn't help but cram another few in my mouth, varying the ratio of jam and cream. It was all so good; I had never dreamt of eating such good-

The King loudly cleared his throat.

Alarmed, I turned my head in his direction, mouth half stuffed with the latest fistful of pound cake. Ivan VII wore a vaguely uncomfortable expression, paired with a rigid smile.

"You're hungry," he remarked.

This didn't seem good. It appeared that I'd crossed some form of social etiquette and that the protocol of behaviour had flown over my head. I'd only been briefly informed about elite society by Krista, but the handmaid had only known more about working class people in Moscow. She wasn't to blame, as neither of us were experts when it came to the elites.

"Yeah," I nodded and reached for more food.

Hastily, he grabbed my wrist. "Aren't you full?"

Clearly, 'help yourself' meant 'eat in moderation'. I could feel there were crumbs on my face, so I made to use the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. Once more, the king caught my other hand, lowering them to the table.

"We use  _napkins_ , Julchen," he said politely, before offering me the white cloth that had been rested beside my plate.

Gingerly lifting it, he dabbed it against my mouth, a pleasant smile forming on his face. My entire body froze as he carefully wiped my mouth clean, tutting as the red colour came away with each brush.

"There we go," he murmured, lowering the cloth down to the table.

For a moment, he sat there, violet eyes trained on me and neither of us daring to move from our seated spots. It was the perfect opportunity to study his facial features, to look at the curve of his jaw that angled into a square, the rounded of his nose that threatened to be his only imperfection, the long dark lashes, surprisingly dark considering how fair haired he was, the fair complexion, the boyish smile that brought his lips up into a favourable quirk. For some reason, he was mesmerising to look at.

"Like what you see?" he suddenly asked, leaning forward.

A flush flowed through my body. My first instinct was to jerk back and try not to panic or send my chair hurtling backwards. 

"What?" I sputtered loudly. "No."

Almost satisfied, the king leant back, still smiling. He wore a look of pure amusement, much to my disdain. Slowly rising, he adjusted his dress coat, before turning to walk away.

"Well,  _I_ like what  _I_ see," he remarked and left the room.

I sat in silence, staring at the unfinished food. Part of me was tempted to take what I could, but I suddenly felt full. In fact, I felt a little nauseous. Rising, I hastily left the room, only to be surprised that Krista was loitering outside. The young handmaid looked genuinely surprised. 

"Are you alright, my lady?" she asked, before hastily correcting herself: "Lady Julchen."

I was shaken, but also...  _furious_. Storming to the room which had been allocated, I should've admired the four-poster bed and attractive balcony. I should've been grateful for my surroundings, but instead I was like a mad creature, throwing off the dress robe and tugging at the corset ties.

"Lady Julchen, what are you doing?" Krista panicked, rushing to my side. "Tug too hard and you may break it!"

That was exactly what I wanted, when I spied the sewing scissors left on the dresser alongside embroidered cloth. Without thinking, I beelined towards them and grasped the silver items, cutting through the corset strings. Krista let out a worried shriek and hurried towards me. I was just glad to breathe in air, to let myself slip out of as much of the weighty clothes as possible.

"My lady, what are you...?" Krista caught at my hands and wrestled the scissors away from me. "You've ruined your dress."

"I have not agreed to stay here for the king to treat me like a courtesan," I replied curtly, wheezing for more air. "So grab the clothes I arrived in and I shall be on my way."

"I can't do that, my lady," Krista looked troubled. "If the king requires your company, you're obliged as a citizen to provide it. Even so, if the king decided that he ought to court you, my lady, then you're obliged as a woman to bat your eyelashes and flirt with him."

"That's not fair," I snapped. "I refuse."

"He's the  _king_ , Lady Julchen," Krista said. "He can do as he pleases."

"Well, I'm not going to flutter my eyelashes at anyone," I huffed. "He can take his compliments and shove them up his-"

" _Lady Julchen_ ," Krista interrupted hastily. "Speak ill of the king and even you might have to face a punishment of some kind. I impore you to be patient. If you act coy enough, the king will eventually tire and pursue another woman and you can return to your life beyond the Winter Palace."

Suddenly, I felt bitter. "So, he does this to a lot of women, huh? Showers them with gifts in the hopes they might be more  _welcoming_."

"Not exactly," Krista began to calmly undress me and, for some reason, I just straightened my arms out and let her. "The king has never shown any interest to any working class women, but the elite ladies he has bought many a necklace or jewellery from. He does quite like bringing interesting things back from Asia."

"What joy," I said drily.

"Perhaps you should like a bath?" Krista offered. "To calm you down, or maybe we can talk about this more?"

"I hate baths," I sneered. The last ones I'd had were lukewarm or cold.

"You need to get used to them," Krista sighed. "You'll be having one nearly every day, from now on."

After a bit of grumbling, I eventually let her talk me into taking a bath. It wasn't the most joyous experience, but I patiently waited until she summoned me into a small room attached to my bedroom. Instantly, I was hit with a waft of warm air and Krista removed the last of the petticoats. There, before me, was a wide tub, filled with clean looking water. Taking off the last of my clothes, I stepped into it and gushed at how warm it was. Sinking deep down, a bath every day suddenly seemed like an excellent idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Krista Galante, "Kris": Female Latvia  
> Ivan Braginsky, "Vanya": Russia  
> \----------


	15. The Attack Goes On

* * *

**I was cooling off after my bath, in a silk dressing gown loftily draped and folded around my body.** The loose garment was like pure luxury, a heaven only affordable to a select few. I felt free to indulge in this, since the king had taken such a quick liking to me. Krista had let me take my hair out once more, to let it roll over the back of the chair as I slowly brushed it and tested out the various perfumes. My handmaid was busying herself laying out the next killer outfit. The elites had to wear such difficult and heavy clothes, I'd decided, so I was taking my time before I was wrapped up like a parcel once more.

A soft knocking came at the door, catching my attention. Brows furrowed, I turned in my seat and watched Krista open the door.

"Your Majesty," she curtsied. "I'm afraid the lady isn't available at the moment."

What was she talking about? I was out of the bath now.

"It's fine, Krista," I shrugged. "I'm out of the bath."

"Wait, Your-  _my lady_ ," Krista looked distressed as the king swept past her and laid eyes on me.

His jaw slackened and a look of horror replaced his normally calm demeanour. Blushing furiously, he turned away, hand raised to his mouth. Krista kept a safe distance from the both of us, nervously watching with wide, sea green eyes.

"Good God, woman," the king finally uttered. "You're not even dressed. How can an unmarried lady sit naked in the presence of men? It's not decent, da?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I sulked. "I'm wearing this."

He dared a glance, only to see me tugging at the sleeves and anxiously turned his head away once more. In Königsberg, so long as your breasts and legs were covered, you were dressed. If you were covered, you were a decent woman.

"I wanted to talk to you about earlier," he coughed. "Krista spoke to me about how you reacted."

I glowered at her and she lowered her eyes to the ground.

"I didn't realise you would feel so uncomfortable, or believe that I was making such bold advances, da?" he still wouldn't look at me. "I want to apologise to you."

"Apology accepted," I said. "Just don't do it again."

He whirled around to stare at me incredulously. "Why would you ever settle for a substandard apology? I can't allow myself to say I'm sorry until I've arranged a feast to celebrate your presence."

"My  _presence_?"

"You seem to have forgotten that you saved my life," he said pointedly. "It's only natural that I should hold something in your honour, otherwise I would be truly ungrateful."

"You really don't have to," I said awkwardly. "A quick apology sufficed."

"I insist," he bowed and Krista's eyes turned to saucers. "Accept this feast as your apology, or have me damned, da?"

A part of me was tempted to send him to Hell, but my better senses told me to take advantage of his offer. A feast meant food and lots of it. I had never been one to turn away a good meal and managing to scrounge up a hefty sum like this would've seen Mütter proud. This man may have been my enemy, but whilst Ordinem either contacted me, or planned their next attack, I was keen to keep watch of the enemy and enjoy the courtesies in the meantime.

"Fine," I rolled my eyes.

"And join me for afternoon tea," he added with a smile.

"That wasn't in the deal," the words automatically left my mouth, before I arched my eyebrows and clamped my mouth shut.

Amusement was alight in his eyes and his mouth was curved into a pleasant smile. "I take that as a yes."

Speechless, I watched him leave with a flourish. Krista slowly and shyly raised her head, cautious to what was happening around her. The king had gone and I couldn't believe what had just happened. How could I have been so stupid, letting myself fall into the luxury of bantering with a handsome young man? The  _king_. The man who had led to the demise of my grandfather. It was wrong to laugh with him.

"I believe I ought to ready you for afternoon tea," Krista smiled pleasantly.

"I didn't agree to that," I sighed, flopping back in my chair.

"You didn't  _disagree_ ," she pointed out. "Besides, you'll like afternoon tea. There's a lot of sweet pastries and cakes available."

* * *

Another squeezing dress later, pastel blue and white this time and I was escorted by Krista through the shining, polished corridors, heels tapping on the ground. Afternoon tea was looming and my mouth was watering at the prospect of tea and cake. If I had remembered the way to the dining room, then it would have been me leading the way.

"Just here, Lady Julchen," she pushed aside the door and gestured for me to go inside.

I was nearing the door when the handmaid caught my hand and gave me a wide-eyed stare.

"Take this," she whispered, pushing something soft into my hand.

"What is it?" I asked back.

"A fan," she answered. "To keep you cool. Just wave it near your face."

Lightly pushing me forward, the handmaid disappeared from view, the door gently shutting behind me. The room was empty. The king currently wasn't there, but the table was laid with all the kinds of foods Krista had described. Pastries and cakes, spread out across the entire table. Based on the breakfast experience, most of these were just for aesthetic purposes. It felt like such a waste of food and I doubted any of these were leftovers from earlier. Where, then, did all the food go? Mütter would have wrapped all in cloth almost immediately, scolding Lud and I for not finishing our meals.

Plopping myself down into the chair I sat at for breakfast, I looked at the wide array of food before me. Slowly, fanning myself, I felt the pleasant, cool air on my face. Was this how it was supposed to be done? It only made sense that elite women should have to cool themselves down, given the heavy clothing they wore. I was so hungry. It had been hour since I'd eaten and there was food in front of me. Slapping the fan down on the table, I reached for the nearest cinnamon roll.

"Eating without me?" I jumped in my seat, before flicking the fan up in front of my face, cinnamon bun rolling across the table.

Ivan VII seated himself beside me.

"You  _can_ eat now," he said. "I was only making a joke."

Silently, I fanned myself, unsure of what to say. For some reason, being in his presence made me nervous.

"Quiet, suddenly," he tapped his fork idly on the table. "I'd hoped you'd have more to say, da?"

"Like what?" I kept the fan in front of my face so I couldn't see him.

"A little bit more conversation," he prompted. "Like... where do you come from? What are you family like?"

"I'm from... Germania..." he wouldn't know where Königsberg was. "And my family work hard."

He peeled the feathers of the fan back. "I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that over the swishing of your fan."

"I was  _told_ it would cool me down," I slapped it down on the table and saw him arch his eyebrows. "I've never used on in my entire life, but I think waving my hands around would do just fine."

"Then don't bother with it," he reached out to clasp my now free hand. "I've spoken to you about Moscow for two weeks now and I've never heard anything about  _you_."

"There's not much about me to say," I replied coolly. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about Germania," he insisted. "It's been a long time since I was there last."

"I come from a small place called..." and then my tongue froze. What if the king had heard reports from General Laurinaitis about me, at Königsberg, or across Germania? Surely, attacking the RSG would be enough to have me executed?

"Julchen...?"

"I come from Frankfurt," I blurted out.

"That's not small," he chuckled. "I can see what brought you from city to city. I suppose the industrial life called to you?"

"Absolutely, although Frankfurt does seem a lot smaller compared to Moscow," I lied, because I'd never been there. "The landscape is a lot different there. Greener, that's for sure."

"It  _is_ very cold here," he agreed and his touch suddenly felt warm on my skin. "You know, I sometimes travel somewhere incredibly far to the east. It's a completely different world, Julchen. The world is a big place, but it's just so  _fascinating_."

His fingertips pressed lightly against my skin and, soothingly, his thumb rubbed against my hand, careful.

" _Everyone_ wears silk and they eat such weird and different foods," he said, his words rich and mesmerising. "Tiny little wheat grains that can be paired with spices and vegetables to become so flavoursome. They love pork in some areas, beef in others, and the scented incenses are just to  _die_ for. And you should see the landscapes; rice fields for miles and buildings with these strange, slanted rooves. It's an incredible world, Julchen, an absolutely beautiful one."

"I've never been," I stammered, flattered by the close proximity he maintained to me.

A small, almost breathless laugh escaped his lips. "No, of course you haven't, but..." and he looked up at me through his eyelashes. "I should like very much to bring you there one day."

It was almost like some greater force took control of him. He raised his hand, fingers skirting against my cheekbone and pushed back a few strands of hair behind my hair, the loose ones that always managed to escape the careful up-do that Krista had arranged. I could see the bow of his lips, the curve of his smile and the mesmerising colour of his eyes. This man, whom I had only known so long, was somehow the most handsome one I had laid eyes on. His breaths were warm on my face and I could see him lean just a fraction closer, just that little extra inch, and-

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," I croaked, turning my head down to the table. "But I'm not sure what you want from me."

"Only to feel welcome," he said quietly. "Help yourself, da?"

The cinnamon roll that had once looked so delicious and appealing suddenly seemed like a lump of stone, unappealing and distasteful. Grabbing at the fan, I began to wave it near my face, trying to will away the colour that had built up in my cheeks. The rest of the afternoon tea was spent in a strange and awkward silence. I could barely convince myself to eat. It had been a large breakfast anyway.

"Julchen, I want to show you the grounds," Ivan added. "This was the main reason for inviting you for tea."

"Then why didn't we go for a walk in the first place?" I asked.

"Because it's custom," he rose, dropping his napkin on his plate. "I think it's safe to say we've finished eating."

I felt a little guilty. He had gone to the effort to plan this affair and neither of us had touched our food. Bending my head in concession, I managed to climb to my feet, battling past the skirts and snatching the fan from its resting spot. Rather than swinging it around, I crumpled it back into place and crammed it into my pocket. There truly was something handy about having a small space to hide things. Turning my attention back to the king, I saw he had an arm extended towards me and a patient expression on his face. Cautiously, I looped my arm around his and he held me close, strolling at an easy pace I could keep up with. His body was warm. King Ivan VII knew the direction he was supposed to be headed in. He led me, until we passed through a set of heavy oak doors that led into the gardens of the Winter Palace.

Although a thick layer of snow covered everything within sight, I could tell it had the potential to be beautiful. There were small trees lining the pathway, shielding us from a clouded sun. Small fruit bushes sat at their bases, although they were struggling to produce delicious harvest. Snow wasn't currently falling, as spring battled to regain the high ground. A fountain at the centre of the grounds had been frozen over, although the spots of water had begun to dribble once more. When the snow was melted, it would be an entrancing setting.

"Tell me about your family," the king prompted.

"I have parents and a brother," I answered. "And a grandfather."

Then the memory of poor Opa struck me once more.

"Sorry," I mumbled. " _Had_ a grandfather."

"Oh, I'm terrible sorry for the loss," his handsome face twisted with sympathy. "It's always hard to lose those we love, da?"

"He wasn't in the world long enough," I sighed.

"Are your family here in Moscow?" Ivan seemed eager to change the subject. "If so, are they OK?"

"No, they're back in König-" I choked on my words. " _Frankfurt_."

He shot me a puzzled stare.

"They had work to do in Frankfurt," I carried on hastily. "They felt I was old enough to be responsible for my own survival. My brother's younger than me, so he stayed at home."

"How much younger?"

"Two years," I continued. "That's why he stayed. He was more useful with physical labour, which our family relies heavily on. I couldn't do that, so they didn't mind me travelling."

"I'm surprised none of them were worried," Ivan huffed. "I would be worried if either of my sisters were travelling alone without a guardian or their husbands."

"Us Germans are pretty independent," I nodded emphatically, hoping he wouldn't continue digging at my flimsy story.

"What do you like doing?" he asked, much to my relief. "As a hobby?"

 _Sword-fighting_. "Sewing?"

"Of course," Ivan's eyes lit up. "You didn't have servants to do such menial tasks for you. My sisters liked singing, dancing and playing instruments. Did you ever do any of those?"

"If prayers count as singing, then, yes."

"Unfortunately, I mean singing for leisure," he smiled sympathetically. "I suppose, with all the work you've had to do throughout your life, it would be difficult to find space in your schedule to work on hobby activities."

"I'm not that good at singing anyway, so I'm not really missing out," I pursed my lips. "What do  _you_ do for fun, then?"

"I very much enjoy reading a good book," he beamed. "I also love going out riding or hunting. You should join me for the former."

"I can't read."

"I was referring to horse-riding," his mouth quirked into a smile. "Although, I can always arrange for you to have reading lessons, if you would like?"

"Books don't interest me," I scowled.

" _I_ could read to you," Ivan suddenly perked up with a brilliant smile. "Out here. This could be our little reading spot. You wouldn't have to learn and you would still benefit from the beautiful tales that authors of the past have constructed with the creativity of their minds."

"Isn't it a bit cold at the moment?" I glanced all around.

"We can walk  _and_ read," Ivan said. "I know you're unsure at the moment, but reading has always been one of the greatest joys of my life, even as a boy. I think you'd like it."

"Why don't you go and grab your favourite book right now, then?" I huffed, just wanting him to leave me alone. "And I'll judge if I like reading after that."

"I'll go find a servant to fetch it for me," he unhooked his arm from mine. "In the meantime, take your time surveying the gardens. You can even find a favourite spot for when the snow has melted and we can sit down to read."

I grumbled a grudging response, watching him excitedly leave like a child that had been promised a gift. Scowling, I stormed down the garden, hoping to disappear from view. Perhaps there was an escape route amongst the hedges and trees? If I could get out of the palace grounds, then finding my way back to Ordinem's lais wouldn't have been too difficult.

I was scrounging around for a way out when I heard a bird twittering noisily above my head. Looking upwards, I saw a fluffy, yellow bird perched on the branch of a nearby tree. Its beady black eyes focused on me and it fell immediately silent. Approaching the tree slowly, the bird didn't fly away as I reached its roost. It was a curious little creature, small and round. I was sure I knew the species, because it looked familiar, but I couldn't place in my head what kind of bird it was. Was it unusual to be drawing links between the comfort of my homelands with the wintery setting of Slavia?

"Julshen!" a voice hissed from nearby.

With the fluid accent and the way the harsh 'ch' became a soft 'sh', I knew it could only be one person. Looking towards the hedge where the noise had come through, I peered at the thick hedge.

"Francis?" I kept my voice lowered. If the king returned, he would be furious to see strangers on the palace grounds.

"Up here," he whispered insistently.

Jerking my head upwards, I stared at cornflower blue eyes peering down at me. Alongside him, there was Tony. The two of them had managed to clamber up the side of the hedge.

"Hold on,  _gringo_ ," Tony extended his hand towards me. "We're here to get you out of here."

"No," Francis nudged him. "We  _were_ here to get you out of here, but the plan's different."

I reached up for Tony's hand just as he withdrew it, sending Francis a confused stare. "Why aren't you getting me out of here?"

"Looking at you dressed up like that, I'm beginning to think you've gained the king's trust," Francis marvelled. "You never cease to impress me,  _mon cherie_."

"You're leaving me here?" I hissed.

"We'll be back in a month," he nodded towards me. "In the meantime, we're going to report your situation to Katarina. Use your position to find a way to sneak into the palace."

"And then?" I prompted.

"We'll sneak in and assassinate the king," he beamed.

I glanced towards the palace. It made sense and it was the perfect plan. Still, there was something at the back of my mind, something that tugged at me. I couldn't explain it thought, which was why I shrugged and looked towards them expectantly.

"I don't know dates," I coughed. "What's the date today?"

"The twenty-fourth of March," Francis nodded. "We'll be back on the twenty-fourth of April. Make sure to know your calendar."

"I'll try, but-"

"We're heading off before we get caught," Francis nodded. "Good luck."

He disappeared beneath the green horizon.

"If you need to get out earlier, send a message," Tony whispered. "We'll come for you right away."

He vanished, too. Inhaling sharply, I turned away, just as the king arrived.

"Were you talking to me?" he glanced all around, violet eyes skirting each surface.

"No, I..." my gaze drifted around. "The bird. I was talking to the bird."

I looked up and the yellow creature still looking down on us.

"The-"

"I'm cold," I said. "I don't want to read outside."

Sweeping past, I beelined straight towards the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A plan has begun to form! But will it be a good idea for Julchen to get so deeply involved?  
> \----------  
> Julchen Beilschmidt, "Jules": Female Prussia  
> Krista Galante, "Kris": Female Latvia  
> Ivan Braginsky, "Vanya": Russia  
> Francis Bonnefoy: France  
> Antonio Carriedo, "Tony": Spain  
> \----------


End file.
